Midnight Confessions
by Diva In The House
Summary: House/OMC friendship fic. It's so much easier to bare your soul when the other person can't see you. House meets a fellow doctor online, and they find they have far more in common than they realized.
1. Chapter 1

**This was originally written for the Fox Forum Friday night challenge--House meets someone online. I'm tagging it as an in-progress fic, although I might not update it as quickly as I'd like. As usual, I don't own House.**

# # #

House quietly let himself in his apartment late that night, no closer to solving the mystery that had ended up costing his patient's life. As was often the case at times like this, his mind refused to shut down, continuing to go over the symptoms and treatments as he scrounged through his refrigerator in search of Chinese leftovers and beer.

He finally found a two-night old container of General Tso's chicken and tossed it into the microwave with a heavy sigh. It was nights like this when he missed staying with Wilson. Even though House was more than happy to move back to his own apartment, the amenities that he had gotten used to during his time at Wilson's were sorely lacking here. House had neither time nor energy to bother most nights, falling back into his usual take out habit almost as soon as he had returned home. On the upside, he had discovered an excellent new Indian place that delivered. Things weren't all bad.

Once his leftovers were heated through, he popped open his beer and limped into the living room. After surfing through his cable line up and finding nothing of interest, he opened his laptop and started it up. A little mindless Internet surfing along with the food and the beer might be enough to wind him down enough to get some sleep tonight. At the very least, it might help take his mind off his failed case for a while.

His first stop was a well known medical website. House stopped there occasionally to peruse the forums, mostly for his own entertainment, but he would also throw in his two cents when someone was so far off the mark that he couldn't let it go.

House logged in and clicked on a couple of the forums, but nothing held his interest. Swine flu continued to be a hot topic here, but since its bark had so far proven to be worse than its bite, House felt no need to comment further than he already had.

He continued on to the doctors'-only section of the website. Usually those discussions were slightly more interesting, and House had found himself participating in more than a few online differentials over his time here.

The opening topic immediately caught his interest, and he clicked on the link to open the discussion. "_Thirty-seven year old male presents with rash on abdomen, fever, and complaints of aching joints following treatment for illicit drug overdose. Patient has tested negative for infection, lupus, and rheumatoid arthritis. Thoughts?"_

House felt his mood lift as he mind started working over the case on the screen in front of him. He read over the responses while he finished off his beer, his food forgotten. Thoughts? Oh yes, House had a few, and he clicked on the opening post to share them with whoever this 'DRinDetroit' person was.

# # #

Doctor Brandon Fisher had just settled in in front of the desktop computer with his fast food dinner when he got the first message alert. He was reading through the discussion he had posted the night before regarding the patient that had shown up in his emergency room, oddly disappointed that his fellow physicians weren't coming up with anything better than he had.

The patient had initially come in due to a drug overdose, and at first he and his team had dismissed the rash as a side effect from whatever the drugs were cut with. When the patient suddenly developed a high fever and complained of aching joints, Fisher knew he was dealing with far more that a simple drug OD. He had admitted the patient and done all the standard blood tests, and ordered IV antibiotics to deal with what he was sure would come up as an infection.

That was three days ago, and the patient was still in the ICU. According to Fisher's close friend and colleague in the ICU, he was holding steady, but not improving. Fisher had taken the strange case to the Dean of Medicine, but there was little interest in curing a guy who, by all accounts, was just another junkie from the streets.

Frustrated by the lack of response, Fisher had turned to the Internet. Somebody, he figured, was bound to take an interest in the case.

There had been plenty of interest, alright. Unfortunately, there hadn't been a lot of helpful responses. Fisher was nearly ready to tell them all "Thanks, but no thanks." He clicked on the most recent message with a resigned sigh, from someone called 'NeverLupus'.

He read the message, pausing partway through his bite of burger. A smile crept over his face as he processed the explanation. Suddenly the whole damn thing made perfect sense, and he didn't know how he had missed it before.

Fisher quickly flipped open his phone and dialed the ICU directly. "Hi, Elise. It's Fisher. Who's the attending tonight?" There was a brief pause as the head nurse answered. "Great, can you patch me through?"

He waited impatiently until the other person picked up. "Burelli? Yeah, it's Fisher. I know what's wrong with our drug OD guy."

His excitement faded as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Really. When?" He twisted his mouth in disappointment. "Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks anyway."

_Shit._ Fisher thought with a twinge of sadness as he snapped his phone closed and tossed it on the desk. Maybe the patient was just another junkie scraped up off the streets of Detroit, and maybe they would have cured him only to send him back out to use and abuse another day, but he was also a human being. That alone had seemed like enough reason to push the matter. Apparently others felt differently.

He clicked the reply button just below the last message, the one from 'NeverLupus' and typed out a response. _"The patient in question died in the ICU about an hour ago. Thank you to all who replied."_ Fisher then sent a quick e-mail to the moderator asking for the discussion to be closed.

Out of curiosity, he clicked on the profile for 'NeverLupus'. There was very little personal information, which wasn't uncommon here. No IM either, but there was an e-mail address. Fisher could recall seeing this user in other discussions, and he or she had been right more often than not.

He debated clicking the e-mail link for the longest time. Normally he wouldn't personally reply to a message, but someone with such an uncanny ability to think outside the box was someone Fisher wanted to talk to. Somehow he suspected that this 'NeverLupus' person had far more going on upstairs than just medical knowledge.

# # #

"_The patient in question died in the ICU about an hour ago. Thank you to all who replied."_ A wave of disappointment washed over House as he read the most recent message from 'DRinDetroit'. Two failures in one night was almost more than House was willing to deal with. Granted, this wasn't his patient, but it still felt personal on some level.

He picked up his now cold container of Chinese and polished it off before rising to limp into the kitchen for another beer. Before he got too far with that plan, a chime went off on his computer indicating an incoming e-mail. House couldn't imagine who the hell would be e-mailing him. Anyone who insisted on contacting him either did so directly or through his work e-mail.

House decided it could wait until he got his second beer. When he returned, he clicked on his e-mail program. He didn't recognize the incoming e-mail address at first until he looked closer. Shaking his head, House opened the message.

"_Thanks for your help tonight. Guess it was just too late to help the patient._

_I wouldn't mind talking to you some more off the forum. You seem like an interesting person (I've learned through this Internet thing not to assume little things like someone's gender), and I'd like to see what you think of things other than medicine._

_Hope to hear from you soon."_

House was baffled. Someone was actively seeking _him _out? It didn't make sense. Still, the notion was interesting. He clicked on the tab to return to the forum, then clicked on the profile for 'DRinDetroit'.

_Gender: Male  
Age: 47  
Location: Detroit  
Other Information: Attending Physician, Emergency Department_

Below was listed two different IMs, a Facebook link, and an e-mail address. House stared thoughtfully at the man's profile, debating how to handle things. Normally he would blow off any attempt that someone made to contact him. It had happened a few times since he had signed up for this forum, but this one seemed different somehow, almost like a meeting of equals.

_What the hell?_ House finally decided to click on one of the IM links. Nolan would be pleased to see House at least making an attempt to connect with another member of the human race. Even if the guy turned out to be an idiot, House figured he couldn't be faulted for trying.

# # #

Fisher was playing some mindless online games in a fruitless attempt to wind down. He hadn't heard from 'NeverLupus' yet, and didn't really expect to. At least he had tried, and that was all he could do.

The gentle 'ping' of an incoming IM broke his concentration, and he quickly clicked over. He didn't recognize the name at first, and he almost ignored it until he realized who it might be.

_Is this NeverLupus? _He typed in.

_Might be. Is this DRinDetroit?_

Fisher smiled to himself. _Yes, it is. Good to hear from you._

There was a long pause before a response finally came. _Why did you e-mail me?_

Fisher winced a little at that. _You just seem interesting, and I wanted to talk to you privately. That's all._

Another long pause. _Your screen name's lame, and you have way too much personal info up on your profile._

He chuckled to himself. That was probably true, and other friends had told him the same thing. _So I guess I don't have to tell you much about myself. You, on the other hand...I kind of like your screen name. How did you come up with that?_

This time the response was immediate. _Because it's...NEVER LUPUS. Even when all the signs point to lupus, it never is._

Now Fisher was really curious. Before he could type out a question, 'NeverLupus' responded again. _I run a diagnostics department at a teaching hospital in New Jersey. When other doctors can't figure out what's going on, they send them to me._

_No wonder you get it right on the forum so often. _Fisher typed back. _You almost have an unfair __advantage._

_I have the advantage of not being an idiot._ The other person answered. _It helps._

Fisher laughed out loud at the unexpected reply. _I imagine it would. So...can you at least tell me if you're male or female? Wouldn't want to assume like an idiot._

This time the pause was longer. Finally there was a response. _Male, 50, single, NOT LOOKING._

Fisher wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not. At least this guy was somewhere around his age. That was a rare find online._ Good to know. I just wanted to talk to you, that's all. It's good to meet someone over the age of eighteen online. Doesn't seem like there's much out here for us older guys, you know?_

When the next pause stretched out to the point that Fisher was pretty sure the other man had signed off, he returned to his online games. It had been so long since he had talked to someone new in a social capacity that he had probably pushed too hard. Just as well, Fisher supposed. At least he had tried.

# # #

House stared at the computer screen at the last message from 'DRinDetroit', unsure of how to respond. It didn't seem like the other man was hitting on him, but the message still seemed odd. Maybe he was just reading too much into it. Even if he was being hit on, the guy was all the way in Detroit. The chances of him stalking House all the way to Jersey seemed pretty minimal.

He realized that he had left the other man hanging without a response, and he quickly started typing again. _Sorry, not so good with this instant message thing._

_No problem._ The other man answered. _Thought maybe I tried a little too hard._

_Are you hitting on me?_ House typed.

_No, no._ 'DRinDetroit' replied, a little quicker than he should have, House thought. _I'm not into that._ A short pause._ Wait, that didn't come out right. I meant that I just want to know more about you._

_Why?_ House was puzzled and intrigued.

_Because I'm curious. :D Not like you gave a lot of info to work with._

_I gave you the basics._ House answered. _What more could you want to know?_

_A name would be nice._ _At least a first name._

The other man made a good point. No harm in giving out a first name. _Greg. And you?_

_Brandon. Nice to meet you, Greg._

_Same here._ House didn't quite know what to say next. This was proving more difficult than any first date he'd ever been on. At least then he'd been able to see the face on the other side of the table. The Internet provided no such thing. For all House knew, the guy could be some creepy troll-like creature living in his mother's basement. One never knew.

_Still there?_ Brandon typed to him. _It's okay if you don't really want to talk to me. I'm a grown up...I can handle it. :)_

_I'm still here._ House typed back._ I'm always this awkward on the first date._

_LOL. I never quite know how to act either. Not just on a date, but...just meeting someone for the first tine. It's a wonder humans ever get together at all._

House couldn't help but laugh, just a little. There was something oddly comforting about the fact that Brandon wasn't exactly having an easy time either. Unless, of course, the whole damn thing was just an act designed to break down House's defenses. _So...why are you up so late, anyway? Thought you had a job to go to._

_I work the night shift in the ER._ Brandon answered. _I've always been a night owl, so it kind of works for me. What about you?_

_Sleep issues and chronic pain._ House was startled at how quickly the words flew from his fingertips. _One causes the other, I think. Hard to say. _

_Sorry to hear that. _Brandon typed back. _Can I ask about the chronic pain?_

_You can._ House answered cagily. _Doesn't mean I'll answer._

_That's fair. _Brandon responded. _Maybe we should talk about something else._

_Good plan._ House stopped typing to stretch out his fingers and take a long drink of his beer.

_How about music? _Brandon asked. _That's always a nice, safe topic._

House chuckled a little before replying. _Could turn into an all night topic. I hope you didn't plan on going anywhere._

_I didn't. :)_ Brandon answered. _You?_

_Nope. _House typed back. _I've got all night._

_Excellent._ Brandon typed in response. House was thinking the same thing, even if he didn't want to admit it. It was good to have someone else to talk to besides Wilson. This might turn out okay after all.

# # #

**You know what happens next. Read and review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**As promised, an update. Told you guys I'd get back to this one. :) As usual, I don't own House.**

# # #

Brandon returned home one night about a month later after a ridiculously busy night in the emergency room. In addition to the usual gunshot wounds and gang-related incidents, the first snowstorm of the year had brought in a slew of car accident victims. Fortunately, there had been few serious injuries, but it had still made for a wearing night.

He cracked open a beer and settled in at the computer, checking his watch. It was about one in the morning, and chances were good that Greg would be on.

Sure enough, as his computer booted up, his IM program chimed at him. _NeverLupus is online and available._ Brandon took a quick drink of his beer and started typing. _Hey, G. How goes things?_

_Still at work._ Greg's response was lightning fast. _Waiting on test results that I should have gotten three hours ago. _There was a brief pause. _Patients are MORONS._

Brandon chuckled to himself. On some level, he could certainly relate. _Should I leave you alone?_

_No, it's cool._ Greg answered. _Nothing to do right now but wait and surf for porn._

_Seriously?_ Brandon typed back._ Don't your IT people have filters against that sort of thing?_

_I have my ways. evil grin_ Greg typed back. _You wouldn't believe what comes up on a Google search._ Another pause. _BRB. Test results are back._

Brandon clicked away to check his e-mail and check out a couple of other forums he belonged to while he waited for Greg's response.

His IM chimed, and Brandon quickly clicked over. On the screen was a message from Greg. _You going to be on for a while?_

_Planned on it. _Brandon answered. _Everything okay with your patient?_

_Good enough. _Greg replied. _I should be home in about twenty minutes._

_I'll be here._ Brandon typed in response. He had no sooner hit the enter key than Greg was gone. That wasn't unusual. Brandon could think of countless occasions where Greg had simply disappeared during one of their conversations, usually due to some epiphany about his patient, which Greg would recount to him later during another conversation.

Brandon could only shake his head at some of Greg's leaps of logic. The man was brilliant, that much was clear, and Brandon often felt that he was out of his league during some of their discussions. Good thing they had other common interests. Brandon felt as if he were on much more equal footing during their discussions of music and movies.

His front door banged open and closed, bringing in a rush of cold air. Brandon turned to see his daughter, Kelsey, standing there, shaking the snow off her coat and toeing off her boots.

"Nice to see you made it back alive." Brandon commented, glancing at his watch. "And on time, even."

Kelsey laughed as she crossed the room and dropped a kiss on Brandon's bald spot. "Nice to see you, too." She peered over his shoulder at the computer screen. "Who are you talking to?"

"Doctor in New Jersey." Brandon told her. "He responded to something I posted about the drug OD guy that came through the ER a month or so ago, and we've been messaging each other ever since."

"Cool." Kelsey nodded, pulling up a chair and plopping down. "It's good to see you putting yourself back out there."

"What?" Brandon was briefly baffled, then shook his head. "It's not like that, kiddo. He's just a friend, nothing more."

"Either way, it's cool with me." Kelsey told him as she rose from the chair. "I'm going to bed. Don't stay up all night chatting."

Brandon chuckled as he heard Kelsey pad up the stairs to the spare bedroom he kept for her. It was good to have her here, even if it was just for the weekend.

Kelsey's mother and Brandon had divorced when Kelsey was nearly two years old, and it had been a tough fight to stay in the girl's life. Brandon had endured countless court dates in an attempt to draft some sort of custody agreement, all of which had proven unsuccessful thanks to Kelsey's mother's interference.

Finally, after draining his resources both emotional and financial, Brandon had been forced to give up the fight, and he had resigned himself to never seeing his child again.

That had changed one day when he checked his e-mail and found a message from her. Brandon still had the original message saved in his inbox, five years after Kelsey had sent it. From then on, she and Brandon had started to build their relationship, in fits and starts. It had been awkward, especially when Brandon had introduced her to Jeff, the man he had spent the previous fifteen years building his own life with.

Eventually, Jeff and Kelsey grew close, and Brandon's own relationship with Kelsey had grown stronger. Now they were as close as they could be, given that Brandon had missed almost all of Kelsey's childhood, and Kelsey would come visit him whenever she could get away from her studies at a college across the state.

Kelsey's mother had been less than delighted over the turn of events, but reluctantly acknowledged the need for Kelsey to know her father. Over the last couple of years, she and Brandon had managed to find some sort of forgiveness with each other, and they had finally called a truce. While things would never be friendly between them, the animosity that had marked their post-divorce life seemed to be gone, and Kelsey's mother had almost shown kindness when...

Brandon sighed heavily and returned to his game. He didn't want to think about that just yet. His emotional wounds had finally started to heal, he thought, and he didn't see any point in reopening them.

A few minutes later, Brandon heard the familiar chime of his IM program, and he clicked over. _Luuucy, I'm hoooome._

Brandon snorted at Greg's message. _Good to see you. How's your patient?_

_Being a lying bastard, as usual._ Greg typed back. _Took me a little longer than I thought it would to get back._

_No problem._ Brandon answered. _My daughter just came in, so I chatted with her for a minute._

There was a long pause. _You have kids?_

_Just the one._ Brandon started to explain. _I was married to her mother a long time ago. Lost contact with her when we divorced, and reconnected through e-mail a few years ago._ He paused before asking Greg, _Do you have kids?_

_Never had any._ Greg replied. _I just never...got that far, I guess._

Brandon wasn't sure how to respond to that, except with more questions. _Ever married?_

_Nope._ Another long pause. _Lived with someone for a few years, though. A woman, in case you were wondering. So you were just married the one time?_

_Yep. _Brandon answered. _Lived with someone else for about fifteen years after that._

_Fifteen years and you didn't bother to marry her? What's wrong with you?_

Brandon couldn't help but laugh. _I couldn't have married __**him **__even if I'd wanted to. They don't allow that here._

Greg didn't reply, and Brandon couldn't say he was surprised. He wasn't even sure what had made him be so open and candid with him. Suddenly he cursed himself for saying anything about Jeff. Now he had driven away someone with whom he was just starting to befriend. Someday Brandon was going to learn to keep his big mouth shut. Or his big fingers, in this case.

# # #

House pushed himself off the couch in search of a refill. As he poured himself another bourbon, he allowed the pieces of the puzzle that represented Brandon to play around in his mind. The guy was nothing if not interesting. Once married, then divorced, losing touch with his only child. House could guess that the fact that Brandon was into guys had a good deal to do with the dissolution of the marriage and the lack of contact with his daughter.

Brandon's most recent confession got House wondering once again if the other man was after more than friendship. After debating with himself for a few minutes, House decided that it didn't matter, really. He and Brandon had connected over a multitude of topics in the month or so that they had been messaging each other, and House had managed to solve more than a few of his cases with his help. Brandon was a bigger help that he realized, and House enjoyed picking his brain and reading about the weird cases that would show up in his ER. He had proven to be House's equal on many levels, a rare thing indeed, and it was a connection House didn't want to lose.

Decision made, House returned to the living room, hoping that Brandon was still on. According to the IM program, he was still online.

_Ground Control to Major Tom._ House typed out, hoping the other man would catch the reference.

After a brief pause, Brandon replied. _Bowie. Excellent choice._ :)

_Glad you think so._ House smirked and responded. _So...you were married, then you shacked up with some guy. _

_Yeah, about that._ Brandon typed back. _Didn't mean to spring that on you. Sorry if I freaked you out._

_It didn't._ House answered. _I just find it...interesting. You don't have a preference?_

_Is there some point to this?_ Brandon fired back.

_Just curious, that's all._ House responded. _Seems like most people choose one side or another, if you get my drift. You kind of...didn't._

There was a long pause before Brandon finally replied. _I loved my daughter's mother, and I loved the man I settled down with after her._ Another pause. _I guess you're right. I don't really have a preference._

Something in Brandon's message caught House's eye. _You said you 'loved' him. Past tense. You're not with him?_

The pause was so long that House would have thought the other man signed off. Finally Brandon typed back a response. _He died three years ago...fought cancer for two years. It was long and painful __and...I don't think I can talk about this. Sorry._

_Don't be. _Guilt at pushing his curiosity too far stabbed at House. _I shouldn't have pushed it._

_You didn't push anything._ Brandon quickly responded. _I don't talk about it with anyone._ There was a brief pause. _It's funny...you spend so many years with someone...you take care of them through thick and thin, and then when it's over...nobody wants to acknowledge it. It's as if the relationship never existed._

House didn't know how to respond to Brandon's sudden openness. He didn't have to, as the other man kept typing. _Sorry to unload this on you. I'll understand if you sign off._

House bit his lip thoughtfully. Clearly the guy just needed someone to talk to, and it looked like House was that someone. _I'm not going anywhere for a while. Keep going if you want._

_Thanks._ Brandon replied. _Where was I?_

_Relationship never existed. _House reminded him.

_Right. So...I feel like a widower, even though I'm not in the eyes of the law...or even most people._ The other man paused. _I still miss him._

Suddenly House felt that he and Brandon were back on equal footing. _The woman I lived with..._House typed, _we split up over five years ago. I'm not sure whether I miss __**her**__, but...I sure as hell wish things had turned out differently._

_What happened?_ Brandon typed back.

_I had...a medical crisis._ House responded, not willing to share the whole story._ We disagreed on the course of treatment, and...you could say I held it against her. After about six months, she'd had enough. She moved out not long after._ House stopped for a moment before typing out his next thought. _I still wonder what would have been if it hadn't been for that._

_I always wonder where we'd be today._ Brandon answered. _Who knows, maybe you and I wouldn't be having this conversation. Maybe we never would have met._

House chuckled a little. _We haven't really __**met**__ yet._

_You know what I mean. :) _Brandon replied. _So...you said you were single, not looking. Are you dating someone?_

House carefully considered his answer. He could lie so easily, and the other man would never know it. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he could bring himself to do it. It wouldn't serve any useful purpose, and after everything they had revealed to each other, it seemed...counterproductive.

House sighed and shook his head before typing back, _I haven't really been with anyone since...her. It's just...I don't know. I kind of suck at all this social crap._

_You seem to be doing okay so far._ Brandon answered back.

_That's because I can't see you._ House quickly replied. _I can't see you, I can't see your reactions, and I can't mess with your head based on your reactions._ He paused briefly before plunging on. _In real life, I'm kind of an ass. Sorry to burst your bubble._

_I don't buy that._ Brandon typed back. _Somehow I suspect the guy typing all this is the real you. _

_Then you're a goddamn idiot. _House answered, suddenly angry for no good reason. He quickly signed off, not caring if he upset the other man. Brandon had gotten far too close for House's comfort. How he had managed that from several states away, House had no idea. All he knew was that he had no intention of letting it happen again.

# # #

**Your turn now. Read and review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Finally made it back over to this one. I don't own anything House-related or Avenue Q-related.**

# # #

House didn't sign on for a few days, still irritated that he had opened up so fully to Brandon. His irritation festered and slipped out in unfortunate ways throughout the week, culminating in a shouting match with Wilson that had sent House's team running for cover.

He growled in frustration as he slumped in his office chair late that night, playing a few rounds of online poker while waiting for his team to complete an MRI for their most recent patient. His IM program chimed and flashed at the bottom of his screen.

_DRinDetroit is online and available._ House ignored the message, hoping that Brandon would get the hint and not bother contacting him.

The IM program chimed again. Apparently Brandon missed the memo. House huffed in annoyance and clicked over.

_Hey, stranger. Long time no...read. :)_ The message read. _You busy?_

_Working._ House typed back. _Waiting for test results...looking like an all-nighter._

_Sorry to hear it._ Brandon answered. _Hey, about last week...You signed off in a hurry. Was it something I said?_

House honestly couldn't remember what had specifically set him off. Besides, his blow-up with Wilson loomed larger in his mind just then. _It's nothing. Forget it._ So much for cutting himself off from Brandon.

There was a brief pause before Brandon answered. _If you say so. I just hadn't heard from you in a while, and I was getting worried. Wanted to make sure you were okay._

House was completely baffled. Why would some stranger care how _he_ was feeling? The idea was a little creepy.

Before he could light into Brandon about boundaries, Chase entered the office, glancing around with a worried expression on his face. "Is it safe?"

House rolled his eyes and whirled in his chair to face the younger doctor. "It's fine. Wilson stormed off hours ago."

Chase took the scan out of the envelope and passed it across the desk to House, glancing over at House's computer screen. "You talking to someone?"

House spotted the IM window that was still open and flashing on his screen. He waved at it casually as he held up the scan, squinting as he peered at it. "Internet stalker. I hear they're all the rage."

"Right." Chase threw House a skeptical look as House fished around in his shirt pocket for his glasses. House's IM program chimed and flashed again. "Are you going to answer that?"

"No." House replied, thoroughly exasperated. "Don't want to encourage the mad stalker, now do I?"

Now that he had his glasses on, the image was much clearer. House studied the scan as Chase explained the increased brain activity that had shown up during a series of questions he and Thirteen had asked the patient.

House frowned, peering over his glasses at Chase. "Didn't I tell you to take Taub with you?"

Chase's mouth fell open, then snapped closed as he seemed to lose his composure. "I...Taub had an idea about the patient, so he went to go talk to her, and Foreman was off securing a neuro consult."

"Right." House smirked a little at Chase's obvious discomfort, handing the scan back to the other doctor. "Go schedule the sleep lab. And don't even _think_ about teaming up with Thirteen on this one. I know all about the shenanigans that go on in there."

Chase's eyes went wide, and House could have sworn he saw the young man blush as he quickly strode away. House snorted in amusement and returned to his IM program.

_Still there?_ Brandon's message flashed at him.

_Yep._ House answered. _Had to go over test results with one of my fellows. I think he has a thing for one of my other fellows._ House pondered the idea for a moment. _Scratch that. I **know** he has a thing for her._

_WTF?_ Brandon quickly responded. _Sounds like something you'd see on Gray's Anatomy or ER. What kind of joint are you running over there?!_

House couldn't help but laugh a little. _Let me run it down for you. Try to keep up._

_Hold on._ Brandon answered, and there was a short pause before he continued. _Okay, I think I'm ready. Go._

_Once upon a time I had three fellows._ House started typing. _RC and AC both started out working for me. They hooked up, fell in love, got hitched. Somewhere in there, they left and moved elsewhere in the hospital. AC moved to the ER, RC moved into the surgical rotation._

House hit the return key, and Brandon almost immediately responded. _Who's the guy, and who's the girl?_

House realized he wasn't being clear on that point. _RC is the guy, AC is the girl. Pay attention. You'll be quizzed on this later._

_LOL. Okay._ Brandon answered. _Just go slowly and use small words. :D_

House snorted. He had to admit, this was kind of fun. _Okay, so...time passes, and I had to hire a new team. Two guys, CT and LK, and a girl, RH, who I like to call...let's just call her 31._

_Why a number?_ Brandon asked.

_My boss told me to hire a team. She told me she didn't care how. Dangerous words._ House replied. _I hired forty applicants, gave them all numbers, and kind of played my own version of Survivor with them._

_And your boss **let **you?!_ Brandon's shock came through astoundingly well. _That's nuts!_

_You have no idea._ House typed back. _It worked, though. I hired the toughest of the bunch. So anyway...at first I hired CT and LK. My boss screeched that I **had** to hire a chick. That's how I ended up with 31._

_Okay._ Brandon responded. _So how does this translate into one fellow having a thing for another?_

_I'm getting there._ House replied. _Okay...31 and EF hook up, out of the blue. Apparently they locked lips at the hospital Christmas party and, well...one thing led to another, yada, yada. Did I mention that AC and RC eventually shacked up and got married?_

_Yep._ Brandon typed back. _See, I do remember stuff._

_Good job._ House chuckled. _Fast forward to sometime this spring. _

House stopped, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Going into this part of the story meant mentioning his absence over the spring and summer. He definitely wasn't ready to share that part. The only question was how he was going to gloss over that. Brandon was sure to ask about it.

_Come on now, don't leave me hanging. _Brandon typed. _Got a good story going here. I want to hear how it ends._

House sat back in his chair, debating with himself. It was quiet in his office, his fellows still off handling the patient. It was just him and the computer.

Finally he took a deep breath, starting to type again. _Sorry. Just had to refresh my own memory. Old brain, you know._ He paused before pushing on. _Spring got kind of busy. LK offed himself, AC and RC got hitched, I took off for a while. EF took over after I told my boss I wasn't coming back._

_Wait a minute. _Brandon quickly shot back. _One of your fellows committed suicide?_

The stark words on House's computer screen hit him hard, almost as if he'd been punched in the gut. His hands shook as he typed back his reply. _Yeah, he did._ House took a deep breath as some unknown emotion started building in him. _He was late for work one day. He was never late. Hell, he was usually the first one here. _House swallowed hard. _He was so fucking passionate about this job that when I fired him, he turned his number over and jumped right back into the game._

_Sounds like he was something of a kindred spirit._ Brandon answered.

_I guess you could say that._ House typed back. _Anyway, CT gave me this lame line about LK taking care of his dog or something. I knew it was bullshit. I sent EF and 31 after him, and...they found the body._

_Fuck._ Brandon replied.

_Yeah._ The enormity of that day suddenly came rushing back to House.

_I can't even imagine how...painful that was._ Brandon typed back.

_Yeah, my team was pretty torn up._ House answered.

_Not just for them, but for you, too._ Brandon responded. _I mean...how long did he work for you?_

_Not that long. Year and a half, maybe?_ House was feeling uncomfortable again, like Brandon was getting a little too close. _Doesn't matter. I'm over it._

There was a long pause before Brandon answered. _Like hell you are._

_Jesus fucking Christ._ House furiously typed. _Why do you keep doing that?!_

_Doing what?_ Brandon asked.

House typed back in a rush. _Acting like you know me better than I know myself. You don't know me. Quit trying to get inside my fucking head. It's creepy._

House started to sign off, but something stopped him. First the fight with Wilson, now this. House vaguely wondered if there was a Guinness record for the number of friends alienated in a twenty-four hour period.

_Greg?_ Brandon finally typed back. _Talk to me. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry._

House stared at his computer screen incredulously. He couldn't remember the last time someone came out and apologized to him for _anything._ He didn't even know how to answer.

_Hey. _Brandon typed back again. _I know you're not answering, but you haven't signed off, either. I'll be around for a while if you feel like talking again._

House felt some other unknown emotion wash over him. Somehow, he had managed _not_ to piss off Brandon and drive him away. Either Brandon was a complete idiot or he was tougher than House had given him credit for. He wasn't sure which, but he wasn't sure he cared, either. It was sort of...nice, House supposed, even thought he didn't know what to make of it.

_I'll be back._ House finally typed back. _Going to check in on the team and then probably head for home. Might get back on when I get there._

_Fine by me. :) _Brandon answered. _I'll be here. _

House leaned back in his desk chair, feeling his mood lift, just a little. _I'll be here._ It was probably the kindest thing anyone had said to him in ages. If House had to be honest with himself, it felt kind of good to know that someone gave a damn about him, even if it was an imaginary Internet someone. It was different, but somehow it didn't seem like such a bad thing.

# # #

Brandon blew out a long sigh of relief at Greg's last message. For whatever reason, the man had decided to stay in touch instead of signing off in a rage.

There was something deeper going on with Greg and his suicidal fellow, Brandon knew that. Even if Greg didn't express it in so many words, it was clear that Greg saw himself in the other man. That had to stir up all kinds of things for him that he was ill-prepared to deal with.

Not that Brandon knew that for sure, but it was obvious from the tone of Greg's messages. He had rarely known someone so adept at flinging up an emotional wall, aside from himself.

Brandon's IM program chimed and flashed in the lower corner of his screen, and he clicked away from his web browser to answer.

_So, about this thing where RC has a thing for 31. _Greg started.

_Wait a minute._ Brandon typed back. _I thought RC was married to AC?_

_Very good. :D_ Greg answered. _You have been paying attention. After I came back from my little LOA, we had this patient. Very high profile._

_I think I'm more curious about your patient._ Brandon was definitely interested. He loved it when Greg talked about his cases. _How high profile?_

There was a short pause before House replied. _You know Dibala?_

Brandon remembered the name from a news brief a couple of months prior. The African dictator had died under mysterious circumstances that were still being investigated. _You treated him?_

_I didn't. My team did._ House answered. _RC, EF, and AC were working the case, and...RC and AC disagreed on the course of treatment._

Brandon was completely confused. _I thought RC and AC weren't on the team? What happened to CT, 31, and LK?_

He cursed himself almost as soon as he hit the enter key. LK was the fellow that had committed suicide, the one that was so obviously close to Greg. Brandon dreaded the blow up that he was sure was forthcoming.

The pause was almost unspeakably long, but Greg finally replied. _CT quit, EF fired 31 while I was gone (they broke up after that), and LK...you know._

_Yeah...I forgot about LK. _Brandon typed. _Remembered as soon as I hit the enter key. Sorry. :(_

_It's okay. _House answered a little too quickly. _Anyway, back to the story. I can't tell you much about __the Dibala case, but...something happened, and AC couldn't deal. She told me I 'poisoned' RC._

_That seems a bit harsh._ Brandon replied.

_You're telling me._ House answered. _She ended up leaving._

_The hospital? _Brandon asked.

_And RC. _House replied. _Between the case and AC dumping him...he was a fucking mess. I guess you could say the team circled the wagons around him. After what happened to LK...you know. Anyway. I think RC and 31 got kind of close._

_Understandable. _Brandon replied. He did understand the paranoia from Greg's team. LK must have kept things incredibly well hidden for none of his co-workers or his boss to notice what was going on until it was too late.

Yeah. Brandon understood far better than Greg knew. Not long after Jeff's death, Brandon found a million excuses to avoid going home to an empty house. Fortunately, those excuses served plenty of alcohol, and held plenty of strangers willing to offer comfort.

Those months were a whirlwind of late nights, random encounters, and more than a few occasions when Brandon had awakened in some stranger's bed with no knowledge of how he had gotten there. Somehow he had managed to function on the job, keeping things together enough that he sincerely believed nobody noticed how far he had fallen.

That changed one morning when he stumbled into his own ER after one of those nights, still under the influence. After ripping into one of the nurses, knocking over an IV pole and a heart monitor, and throwing up on a patient's shoes, all in full view of the Dean of Medicine and the group he was leading on a tour through the hospital, it was over, or so Brandon had thought just before he passed out.

The Dean had offered Brandon a choice. Rehab or his job, possibly even his license. The choice was obvious, but it had been far from easy. Weeks in rehab, followed by mandated counseling started him on the right path again. Unfortunately, that right path started at the bottom of the totem pole. No longer on the fast track to head up the ER as he had been before his crash and burn, he was just another attending on the night shift, patching up the dregs of humanity and sending them back out onto the streets of Detroit to fight another day. Or night, in his case.

_Hello? _Greg had sent another message while Brandon was busy brooding. _Still with me?_

_Yeah, I'm still here._ Brandon typed back. _Just...thinking, I guess. How long have you been sitting there?_

_Not long._ Greg answered. _About fifteen minutes. I'll just assume you haven't read the last couple of messages._

_Sorry. _Brandon replied, feeling a little guilty about his fit of self-pity. _Are we still talking about your fellows?_

_Yep. :D_ Greg quickly typed. _So tonight...RC and 31 teamed up on a procedure, even though that wasn't what I had planned. Not that I'm trying to keep them apart or anything, but...yeah. I called RC on it. The boy blushed. It was kind of funny._

_Would it bother you if they got together? _Brandon asked.

_No, not really._ Greg paused briefly before further explaining, _Who knows? They might be good for each other. She's dying, he's on a downward spiral, and they're both on the rebound. Fun times._

Brandon cringed a little at that, even as he laughed. He was about to reply when another message came through from Greg. _You were right about something._

_Really? _Brandon responded. _About what?_

_About LK._ Greg quickly answered. _It fucked me up too. I've never talked about it with anyone._

Brandon was oddly touched. _Maybe it's time you did._

_Maybe._ Greg replied. _You got some time?_

_For you? _Brandon answered. _You bet. All the time you need._

There was an insanely long pause, and Brandon thought Greg signed off. Finally he sent back a reply. _You fucker._

_What?_ Brandon panicked. _Did I do something wrong?_

_Yeah._ Greg answered. _I'm actually...what's that thing where liquid leaks out of your eyes against your will?_

It took a moment for Brandon to put it together. _Would that be...crying?_

Another long pause. _Yeah. I'm crying over a guy that killed himself months ago. Makes no goddamn sense._

_Makes all kinds of sense._ Brandon countered. _Think about it. Did you go to his funeral?_

_Talked to his parents._ Greg replied. _Spouted some batshit crazy murder theory._ Another pause. _No, I didn't go to the funeral. When my boss told me she was 'sorry for my loss', I told her it wasn't my loss._

_But it was, wasn't it? _Brandon typed without thinking._ Sorry. Probably overstepping my bounds again._

_It's cool. _Greg responded. _I guess...I've needed to do this for a long time. Thanks._

Brandon grinned widely, even as a lump grew in his throat. _Any time. Any time after midnight, that is. ;)_

_Right. :) _Greg typed back. _So...I do have a couple of cool stories about LK._

_I'd love to hear them. _Brandon answered.

_Well...back when I was still playing Survivor, we had a patient that coded inside a hyperbaric chamber. Guess who grabs the defibrillator paddles?_

Brandon snorted, getting a picture in his mind. _Tell me he didn't._

_HE DID._ Greg answered. _Damn near blew up himself, the patient, __**and **__the chamber. :D He thought for sure I was going to shitcan him._

_You didn't?_ Brandon was a little surprised.

_Nope._ Greg quickly responded. _Matter of fact...that's when I decided he was a keeper. Anyone willing to take that kind of risk for a patient was someone I needed on my team. _There was another pause._ There was this other time..._

Brandon and Greg continued talking long into the night, sharing stories about LK. After all that talk about him, Brandon found that he missed the guy, too, even though he'd never met him. No wonder Greg had come undone after talking about him. Brandon wondered if there was anyone else the man felt so strongly about. It was enough to keep him interested, certainly.

_Hey, it's getting late, even for me._ Greg finally told him. _I should let you go._

Brandon took a quick glance at his watch. _3 AM? Shit. I guess so. You'll be dragging ass tomorrow._

_No more than usual._ Greg replied. _Thanks for letting me...you know...shoot the shit about LK. _

_You're welcome._ Brandon typed back. _Hell, I kind of miss him, and I didn't even know him._

_I guess none of us did._ Greg answered. _Anyway...thanks. Night._

With that Greg signed off, leaving Brandon alone, bathed in the glow from his monitor. For some odd reason, he was feeling a little better about things himself. As he continued to play around online, a familiar song started playing.

"_When you help others...you can't help helping yourself..."_

Brandon couldn't help laughing just a little. There was a whole lot of truth in that, more than either he or Greg realized, he suspected. And there was nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.

# # #

**You know the drill. Read and review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Insert usual disclaimers here. I don't own House or any of the House characters. Be a lot cooler if I did, though.**

# # #

House strode confidently into his apartment a couple of weeks later, flying high. He and his team had wrestled their way through their most recent case, and after nearly ten days of twists, turns, multiple misdiagnoses, and arguing, the teenage patient was finally on the road to recovery.

It had been cause for celebration, and House had busted out the good stuff he normally reserved for himself, pouring a shot into everyone's coffee mugs. He hadn't missed the warm hug between Chase and Thirteen, nor the pained expression on Foreman's normally taciturn face. Taub had merely stood to the side, catching House's eye and shrugging imperceptibly, seemingly unshaken by the drama that unfolded around him.

Hot damn. House was going to have a hell of a lot to share with Brandon tonight. Wilson had been strangely unavailable, begging off the offer of a shot with some mumbled excuse that House didn't quite catch. The two of them had found an uneasy truce since their blow-up, circling each other like lions even as they fell into their old routines.

He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator along with last night's beef curry, tossing the latter into the microwave and returning to the living room to flip open the laptop and fire it up. The microwave pinged at him while he was on his way back to the kitchen, and he was soon settled on his couch with his food and his beer, music blaring away out of the laptop's remarkably capable speakers.

Life was good tonight, and he was jazzed to include Brandon in on the party. House clicked on his IM program, signing in. It was just after midnight, and Brandon should be signing in before too long after his own ER shift.

Brandon piqued his curiosity. The guy was sharp, wise, nearly House's intellectual equal. What the hell was he doing slogging away on the night shift in the ER? House suspected that there was more going on than Brandon's night owl tendencies. Any normal human being would have sought out a more reasonable schedule long ago.

Brandon obviously wasn't normal, not by a long shot. No wonder he and House got along so well.

His IM program chimed, announcing Brandon's presence. House immediately started typing. _RC and 31 are SO going to hook up tonight._

When Brandon didn't respond after about five minutes, House frowned. Normally Brandon responded almost immediately. Thanks to House, he was nearly as invested in the ongoing drama in diagnostics as House was. House typed again. _Hello? This is Planet Earth..._

The Duran Duran reference also failed to draw a response from the other man. Either House was off his game, or something was rotten in the city of Detroit. In House's mind, that pretty much covered the whole city, but that was beside the point. He and Brandon had debated the pros and cons of that topic countless times since their initial contact.

House scarfed down his leftovers and moved on to the medical forum, scanning through the topics for anything interesting. Nothing caught his eye tonight, and he moved on to one of his favorite porn sites.

Nothing new uploaded there, either. It was proving to be a slow night, even on the mighty Internet.

House huffed irritably and pushed himself off the couch to toss his empty container and grab a second beer. He had barely sat down again when his IM program chimed at him.

"About damn time." House grumbled, clicking on the window to read the message.

_This is Major Tom to Ground Control._ The message read.

_About goddamn time._ House typed back. _Did you see my last message?_

_The Duran Duran thing?_ Brandon answered. _Yeah, I caught that. Cute._

_Not that one._ House rolled his eyes as he typed. _The other one._

There was a short pause before the message came in. _Oh. Yeah. That's good, right?_

Something didn't seem right, but House couldn't put his finger on it. Brandon seemed disconnected, disoriented. House checked his thoughts before they went too far. Sometimes the hoofprints really did belong to a horse, and not a zebra. _Good for them. EF_ _isn't exactly thrilled._

_Can't imagine he is._ Brandon replied. _I know I wouldn't be._

Something was definitely up. House groaned internally before typing his message. _Okay, what the hell is going on? You're totally off your game tonight._

_Sorry._ Brandon answered back, a little quicker than he should have. _Rough night. Guess I had a little trouble leaving work at work. Any word from AC?_

_Not a peep._ House replied, baffled that Brandon would even bring Cameron up.

_Huh. Weird._ Brandon typed. _So how do you know they're going to hook up?_

_We finally nailed our case. Patient should be all fixed and ready to go home in a week or so. _House responded. _Ergo, RC's going to nail 31. Or the other way around. Could go either way, in a manner of speaking._

_You're sick. :D_ Brandon answered. _It's one hell of a rush, isn't it? Snatching a life back from the brink, solving the unsolvable...exciting stuff, right?_

_Yeah, it is._ House smiled a little. _Guess the ER's a little different. No mysteries there, just a race against the clock._

Brandon replied almost immediately this time. _We lost more than a few of those races tonight. Between the multi-car pile-up and the gangbangers that couldn't seem to leave the battle behind...Tonight just flat out sucked ass._ There was a brief pause before he continued. _Matter of fact, we've had a lot of those nights lately. Seems to go in waves._

House couldn't help but notice Brandon's rambling and misspelling. It was completely out of character for him. _No wonder you decided to get wrecked. Seems kind of soon for an alcohol buzz...what are you on?_

_Not drinking. :) _Brandon typed back. _Imbibing in a bit of the herb, perhaps. I'd share if you weren't, you know, hundreds of miles away._

House took a long drink of his beer, carefully considering his reply. Brandon was having a hard night, and House hadn't been around much over the last week or so. They had chatted a little here and there, whenever House had a spare moment, but those moments had been few and far between. House found himself wracking his brain, trying to come up with anything that should have sent up a red flag.

_Hey, man. _House finally typed back. _I'd take it if you were offering._ He paused a little, debating on how far to butt in. _So, Midnight Toker, who's your source?_

_Are you kidding me?!_ Brandon shot back. _You could be the DEA for all I know. Or the FBI. Or any of those other alphabet agencies, lol. I'm not telling you._ There was a short pause. _Let's just say I know people. Nice reference, by the by. You're a funny guy, G...if that's your real name. :D_

House rolled his eyes. Brandon had clearly gone more than one toke over the line tonight. The only mystery was why. A few rough nights in the ER didn't sound like sufficient explanation to him.

He huffed in frustration. All he really had to do was come out and ask if the guy was okay, even though he obviously wasn't okay. After all, Brandon had let House unload countless times. It seemed only right to return the favor.

There was one problem with that. House didn't know how to go about it. If Brandon were a patient, he'd browbeat, berate, and do whatever he had to do to get his answer. But he wasn't a patient, and therefore House had to tread a little more carefully. It wasn't exactly his strong suit.

_Helloooo...you still there?_ Brandon asked.

_Yeah. I'm still here. _House responded. _Look...you know I wouldn't normally ask, but...are you okay?_

_No. _The other man answered after an impossibly long pause. _I'm not okay._

House mentally kicked himself, furious for not noticing sooner. _What's going on?_

_It's nothing specific, G._ Brandon seemed to pull himself together a little. _I'm just having kind of a hard time right now. That's all you need to know._

A flash of anger went through House upon reading Brandon's message. _That's BULLSHIT. I've practically bared my fucking soul to you. I'm offering the option for you to do the same and you blow me off?! That's stupid._

_Fuck off._ Brandon instantly answered. _You wouldn't understand._

_I might if you'd take the time to __**explain **__it. _House fired back. _Believe it or not, I might actually be able to help you out. You could talk to me, at the very least._

Brandon didn't answer right away, and House nearly clicked away before his IM program finally chimed.

_Fine. You win. _Brandon typed back. _I'll talk. But be warned...it's a long story. I hope you've got some time to kill._

_My work is done...boss gave me the day off tomorrow. _House typed back, not sure what he was getting into. _I've got almost nothing but time._

_Good. _The other man answered. _You're going to need it._

House was a little unnerved at the thought, but steeled himself for whatever Brandon was preparing to dump on him. He just hoped he was up to the task.

# # #

Brandon was shaking as he butted the end of the joint and disgustedly threw it in the ashtray. He knew better. He fucking knew better. And yet...here he was, living as if it were three years ago all over again, minus the random sexual encounters. That was the one thing he didn't have the stomach for anymore. It wasn't worth the risk.

He let out a hollow laugh at that. Not like playing around with his quickly slipping sobriety was any less of a risk. It was a good thing he was past the point of mandatory drug tests at work. There was no way in hell he could pass one right now.

_You going to talk, or what? _Greg typed in. _I know I've got all night, but...get on with it already._

Brandon couldn't help but laugh at Greg's impatience. At least he was trying. It was more than he could say for anyone else in his life right now.

Who the hell was he kidding? Right now, there _wasn't _anyone else. Kelsey was across the state, and Brandon didn't want to bother her with his problems anyway. All of his friends from his time with Jeff had long since moved on, since most of them were Jeff's friends to start with.

He pushed his dark thoughts aside and started typing. _Sorry. I just have a hard time talking about this stuff._

_Yeah, sounds like this one guy I know. _Greg responded quickly. _You know him, too. :P_

_I don't even know where to start._ Brandon felt like he was just rambling. Finally he decided to just dive in and get on with it, as Greg put it. _I'm fucking up, and I don't know why._

_Fucking up what? _Greg asked. _You're going to have to be more specific. Mind reading isn't my specialty._

Brandon sighed hard, almost unwilling to admit what he knew he needed to admit. _Okay...I told you about the man I was with, right?_

_Died three years ago, cancer. _Greg replied. _Yeah, memory's still functional._

_Right. _Of course Greg would remember. He was scary good that way. _I was his primary caretaker almost to the end. It took a lot out of me, more than I wanted to admit. After he died...everything went to hell for me. I just...fell apart. For about a year, all I did was work, drink, and screw around with strangers. I don't even remember half the things I did. Not sure I want to._

He hit the enter key, waiting for a response before he continued. His hands were starting to shake. This was a part of his past he hadn't shared with anyone.

_I know there's more. _Greg typed back. _Don't leave me hanging here._

Brandon debated telling Greg about his final breakdown in the ER. To hell with it, he decided. Might as well share the whole sordid tale. _I somehow stumbled into my own ER one morning after being out all night. I'd been drinking and doing God knows what drugs. Probably whatever the person I was hanging with had. I don't even remember. I chewed out one of the nurses when she tried to help me out, knocked over some equipment, threw up on some patient's shoes, and passed out right in the middle of the ER floor. _

He sent the message, awaiting Greg's reply. It seemed a long time in coming, but Brandon knew his sense of time was screwed up right now. _So you didn't lose your job, obviously. _Greg answered. _Let me guess...you got shipped off to rehab?_

_It was either that or...yeah, lose my job. _A surge of bitterness went through Brandon. _I might as well have lost my job. I should have been at least senior attending by now, maybe even running the ER. No way in hell is that happening now. The board will never allow it._

_Well, no, not if you're fucking up like you say you are._ Greg's words were brutal. _Rehab didn't take?_

_It did, at first. _Brandon answered, a little taken aback by Greg's response. _After a year or so, I would have the occasional beer when I got home after a tough night. Figured I could handle it. Guess I was wrong._

There was a long pause after Brandon sent the message, and he could feel the buzz start to wear off a little. He started to reach for the joint again when he spotted Greg's reply. _What do you want? _

_What the hell do you mean? _Brandon started to wonder if Greg had been smoking the same stuff he had.

_I mean, deep down. What do you want out of your life?_ Greg responded. _Simple question, if you stop and think about it._

_Simple, sure. _Brandon answered. _Not so easy to answer._

_That's what I said, too._ Greg typed back. _I didn't know how to answer at first. You probably don't, either._

_You're right. _Brandon admitted. _I don't have a fucking clue._

_Sure you do. _Greg countered.

_No, I don't. _Brandon quickly replied. _All I know is that I don't want to live like **this.**_

_And what is 'this'? _Greg pressed.

_You've got some goddamn nerve, you know that?! _Brandon was suddenly furious at Greg's probing. _You're not a shrink. Stop trying to act like one._

_No, I'm not. _Greg replied. _But I've hung around enough of them to learn the language. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about._

Brandon snorted derisively at Greg's confident words. The question hung in the back of his mind, though, lingering, wandering through his brain and picking up thoughts as it did so. _What do I really want? I want it to be six years ago. Before he was diagnosed, before he was so sick. _Brandon swallowed hard. _Before it all went to hell._

_You know you can't have that, right? _Greg punched a hole right through that idea. _Might as well go for something you can really have._

Brandon sat and stared at the computer screen for what seemed like the longest time, just thinking, the fog lifting as his buzz wore off, his emotions triggered by the night's events finally coming to the surface.

_I don't want to hurt. _He finally typed back. _I want to be able to see someone that looks like him without feeling like my heart's being ripped out. _He took in a ragged breath. _Fuck. I miss him._

Brandon felt something slide down his face, something that had been three long years in coming. Everything he had tried to keep inside for so long finally poured out of him, and he could hardly see his monitor. _I'm going to have to get back to you. Thanks to you, I can't see my damn screen._

_I'll be around. _Greg replied._ IM me when you can see again._

_I will. _Brandon typed back, more by feel than anything else. _Thanks for knocking some sense into me._

_It was in you all along, Scarecrow. :) _Greg answered. _I didn't do much._

_The hell you didn't. _Brandon furiously replied. _I'd probably be drowning in a puddle of my own vomit right now if you hadn't contacted me tonight._

_I guess we'll never know, will we? _Greg responded. _You going to be okay for a minute?_

_Yeah, I'll live. _Brandon answered. _I'll get back to you in a while. Need some time for myself._

_Okay. _Greg replied. _Like I said, I'll be here._

Brandon managed to smile a little at that. Even though Greg was hundreds of miles away, just knowing he was there made a world of difference. Maybe, just maybe, there was a light at the end of this tunnel, and maybe it wasn't the oncoming train. Brandon figured he might as well hang around and find out.

# # #

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews so far. Now...keep them coming. ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Finally made it back over here. Don't own House or Wilson, just Brandon.**

# # #

House got wrapped up in back to back cases for nearly a month. He had tried to contact Brandon through both IM and e-mail, but hadn't heard back from the other man. Considering how their last conversation had ended, it was a little worrisome.

The concern would rattle around in the back of his mind as he and his team worked. He almost gave up trying to contact Brandon. After all, he was just someone online. It wasn't as if he was a real life friend.

The thought would occasionally migrate to the front of his mind during quieter times, late at night when he was alone in his office or at home. Okay, perhaps Brandon wasn't right here in Princeton, like Wilson, but they were friends, after a fashion. Friends that had bonded in odd ways, through a passion for medicine, for music, through their mutual screwed-up existences.

He and Wilson were hanging out one night, their schedules finally syncing enough to spend the evening together with good beer, good food, and awful movies. It was the perfect way to wind down, and House found himself relaxing, nearly dozing off.

Wilson was starting to doze off, too, and House went through his ritual of dragging down the pillow and blanket for his friend, tossing them casually at him.

"Just like old times, Jimmy." House couldn't help but chuckle at Wilson as he settled in on the couch.

"Uh-huh." The other man mumbled. "Night."

House locked the door and started to shut off lights on his way to the bedroom when his IM program chimed from the laptop on the coffee table. Wilson stirred and lifted his head. "Who's that?" He asked sleepily.

House's heart nearly leaped into his throat. "Friend of mine. And yes, I do have friends other than you." He threw Wilson a scornful look. "I'll just take this in my room."

"M'kay." Wilson murmured. He almost immediately fell asleep, and House tucked the computer under his arm and limped to the bedroom, setting it up on his bed.

_DRinDetroit is online and available. _It was about goddamn time. _Where the hell have you been?! _House typed out._ I've been trying to contact you for weeks. You don't e-mail, you don't IM...what's a guy supposed to think?_

_Thank you, Jewish Mom...Dad. :D _Brandon quickly responded. _I've been...busy. What about you?_

_Same._ House answered. _Work's been nuts. People dying of strange causes all over the damn place._

_That's good._ Brandon replied. _Keeps you out of trouble, right?_

_Sometimes. ;)_ House typed back. _Sometimes it gets me in more trouble._

_How's that?_ Brandon asked. _Seems like saving their lives would be a good thing._

_Well...Sometimes we have to go to extremes. Sometimes we can't always get the consent to go to those extremes. _House explained. _That's when I get in trouble._

_Oh. That doesn't sound so good. _Brandon answered.

_It's okay._ House explained further. _Just means I have to go to my witch of a boss and tell her that I'm right, and that what I'm doing is necessary, and oh, by the way, the patient will **croak** if I don't do it, and it'll be their blood on her hands. That usually does it._

_Wow. _Brandon responded. _Whatever it takes, right?_

_Right._ House answered. _She's female and sort of Jewish. Very easy to play the guilt card with her._

_That's just wrong, G. _Brandon quickly replied. _Funny, but wrong._

_Can't be wrong if it's true._ House shot back. _Not my fault she caves so easily._

_Almost sounds like you enjoy it. _Brandon typed back. _She must be some boss._

House paused, staring at the words on the screen. Some boss indeed. _Yeah, she's not the worst I've ever had. She's done a hell of a lot for me._ After some thought, he continued. _More than any boss should._

_I'm sure she wouldn't do it if she didn't think you were worth the trouble._ Brandon replied. _Which I'm fairly certain you are._

_Stop, I'm blushing._ House answered, rolling his eyes.

_Shut up. glare_ Brandon shot back. _I've seen your responses on the boards, and I know just from our chats how fucking brilliant you are. So knock it off._

_Whatever._ House snorted as he typed back his response. _It's nothing special. It's just...how I roll._

There was a long pause before Brandon answered. _It's easy for you to say that, because it's normal for you. Trust me, it's not normal._ House was about to send back a response when Brandon started typing again. _Your mind is an exceptional gift. Don't take it for granted._

An odd chill went through House at that. He knew all too well how easily things could slip away. After all this time, the loss of his rational mind still worked at him. If the cause had been something beyond Vicodin...House pushed the thought away. It had been the pills, and nothing but the pills, thank a non-existent God. _I didn't say I took it for granted. I don't. Believe that._ He finally typed back. _Anyway, enough about me and my freakish genius. What have you been so damned busy doing?_

The question induced a longer than usual pause. _You remember the last time we chatted?_

_Yeah._ House answered. _You weren't doing so hot, as I recall._

Another long pause. _I screwed up again after that. _Brandon started. _I ended up going to my boss and asking to go to rehab. That's where I've been._

_Why the hell didn't you just say so?_ House typed back, his frustration with Brandon mounting.

_I don't know. _Brandon replied. _I'm not exactly proud of it. You know, having to do this **again**._

_You think you're the first guy who's ever had to repeat?_ House fired back. _Jesus, you must be more special than I thought._

_Go to hell. _Brandon's response was immediate, followed by a short pause. _Sorry. You didn't deserve that. It's just that...when you think you have it all together, and you find out you don't...it hurts._ He started typing again before House could respond. _I feel like a goddamn loser._

_Well...don't._ House responded. _Because you're not._

_Easy for you to say. _Brandon answered. _You're not here. You don't know what I'm going through. _

House huffed in frustration. _Okay, let me get this straight. _He started. _You did rehab once. You got overconfident, started screwing up again. You recognized it, and you got the help you knew you needed. How the hell does that make you a loser?_

_Because I obviously didn't learn shit the first time. _Brandon replied.

_So you have more work to do. _House typed back. _Big fucking deal. Here's a news flash—almost no one gets it right the first time. Took me, I don't know...three or four tries. And there's still no guarantee I won't screw up again._

_You?_ Brandon seemed genuinely surprised. _I can't picture that. You seem to have it so together._

House laughed a little at that notion. _You know just as well as I do how easy it is to hide behind a computer screen._ He answered. _I __**don't**__ have it all together. No one does._

_I'm not sure whether to be relieved or worried. _Brandon admitted. _I mean, if someone like you...well, you know what I mean. _

_I'm only a genius when it comes to the medicine. _House typed back. _Haven't always been so brilliant in the other parts of my life._

_And you're okay with that? _Brandon asked.

_Hell no, I'm not okay with that! _House immediately responded. _I'm supposed to be a genius, remember?_

_Right. I forgot. :P _Brandon answered. _So...what was your thing? If you don't mind me asking, that is._

_Prescription painkillers. Vicodin, specifically. _House told him. _I was prescribed them back when I had my thigh infarction. They were supposed to be temporary. Ten years later, I was still popping the damn things like candy._

_Jesus, Greg. _Brandon typed back, pausing before typing again. _Wait a minute. You said you had an infarction? Sounds like there was more to it than that._

_I had the damn thing for three days before it was diagnosed. _House answered, the memory of the unbelievable pain rushing back to him as though it were yesterday. _Even then I was surrounded by idiots. It was only when they spotted the waste in my cath bag that they realized what was wrong. By then it was too late. I had lost a lot of muscle. I figured...if they put me in an induced coma for a few days, all the waste would flush out and I'd be okay._

_Obviously that didn't happen. _Brandon responded.

House stopped with his fingers over the keyboard. He wasn't sure if he wanted to continue. Stacy's decision to override his wishes, no matter her motivation, still hurt after all these years. Even more so, now that he no longer had the Vicodin to numb him. The irony wasn't lost on him.

He took a deep breath and plunged on. _No, it didn't. The woman I was living with at the time approved a procedure while I was under. It took out the dead muscle, but oddly enough...left the pain behind. It was only supposed to be temporary, hence the Vicodin scrip._

_Is this the chronic pain you were talking about the first time we chatted? _Brandon asked.

House smiled a little. _Damn, you've got a good memory. _

_Thank you. _Brandon responded. _So...you got hooked on the Vicodin._

_Hooked isn't the word. _House answered. _Addicted, both physically and psychologically. I knew it, openly admitted it, and was blatant in my use of it._

_So what changed?_ Brandon asked. _What made you want to kick it?_

House had to think about that for a moment. It was a long journey to that point, certainly, but he wasn't sure he was ready to share the whole story with Brandon._ I made a few bullshit attempts over the __years, usually because of external motivations. It had nothing to do with really __**wanting **__to get off it. Either it was to win a bet or to stay out of jail._

_Jail?! _Brandon shot back. _What for?_

_Possession with intent to traffic. _House replied. _I had a shitload of it squirreled away. I was getting scrips from all kinds of sources. My best friend, my team, my boss. Things just got...out of control._

_But that wasn't what did it._ Brandon astutely stated.

_Nope. I was back to my old ways in no time. _House answered. _Using and abusing and acting like nothing was wrong. _

_Sounds familiar. :) _Brandon replied. _Scary how similar we are._

_It's just standard addictive behavior. _House typed back. _Addicts are addicts, no matter what the substance is._

_I suppose you're right. _Brandon agreed. _So again...what changed?_

House didn't know how to explain the whole thing. It all seemed like one long, strange, twisted dream when he looked back on it. If he were on the other end, and someone were telling him, he'd have a hard time believing it. _I don't know...it's so crazy that I'm not sure you'll believe it. _

_Try me. :)_

_Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you. _House paused briefly, then started typing again. _It started just before LK's suicide..._

# # #

Brandon could barely believe the words that he was reading. Greg's story of his downward spiral was frightening. No wonder the man had been so able to accurately read him. In many ways, their stories were similar. Only the manifestation and the substances in question were different.

_So you really thought you were losing your mind? _Brandon furiously typed after Greg's long message.

_I couldn't think of any other explanation. _The other man responded. _I damn sure didn't want to blame the pills._

_Well no, of course not. _Brandon couldn't help but laugh a little. _What addict would?_

_Right. :)_ Greg answered. _See, you are learning something._

_Yeah, thanks. _Brandon was grateful for Greg's odd sense of humor. It was one of the many things he liked about the man. _So what finally led you to believe it was the Vicodin?_

_There was nothing left. _Greg replied. _Nothing else fit. I was literally out of options._

_So off to rehab you went, huh?_ Brandon figured he kind of knew where this was going.

_Nope. Psychiatric hospital. _Greg typed back. _I knew I would bullshit my way through a standard rehab, and...I still wasn't sure it was just the pills. As it turns out...it wasn't just the pills. There was a whole lot of other shit going on. I've only started working my way through it._

Brandon sat back in his desk chair, absorbing the words on the screen. _Do you think you'll make it this time?_

_I have no idea. _Greg answered.

_At least you're honest. _Brandon typed back. _Again, not sure if that's comforting or worrisome._

There was a long pause before Greg replied. _Look, I'd be lying if I said everything was all sunshine and puppies, and you'd know I was lying. I figure you've probably got enough people feeding you that line. You don't need one more person doing that to you._

Brandon had to agree. It was Greg's brutal honesty that had finally pushed him to get help again. _You're right. It's kind of refreshing, actually. Everyone else wants to pat me on the back and tell me how __**wonderful **__it is that I'm getting help. I want to tell them to fuck off and leave me alone. If I hadn't screwed up in the first place, I wouldn't need the help._

_Yeah, yeah. You're a fuck up, you don't deserve the praise, you're a miserable excuse for a human being. I get it. _Greg quickly responded. _Keep that up and you'll be right back where you started._

_What the hell are you talking about? _Brandon suddenly felt defensive. _I did it. I'm clean. I just want to move on. I don't want the constant reminder of what a mess I was._

_I hate to tell you this, but...you're stuck with that. Sorry. _Greg's blunt words took Brandon by surprise. _The day you forget what a mess you were is the day you fuck up again. Pretty sure you don't want that._

_No, I don't. _Brandon reluctantly agreed. _Just seems like there should be a middle ground somewhere._

_Afraid not. _Greg answered. _It's kind of an all or nothing proposition. Suck it up and deal with it._

Brandon busted out laughing. Greg's attitude was so different from what he was already used to hearing in his recovery groups. He could only imagine what sort of hell Greg would raise in that kind of setting. _You're an asshole, but in a good way. Thanks._

_You're thanking me for being an ass? _Greg typed back. _That has got to be a first._ There was a brief pause. _You're welcome, I guess. I don't think you'd know what to do if I suddenly turned all warm and fuzzy on you._

_Well...you wouldn't be you. _Brandon replied. _So, anyway...enough about me and my screwed up life. What's been going on with you? RC and 31 hook up yet?_

_As far as I can tell...no._ Greg typed back. _They're getting awfully damn close, though. I think they went out after work tonight. Guess I'll find out in the morning. _

_And what about you? _Brandon ventured. _Still not looking?_

There was a long pause, and Brandon thought for sure he had stepped over the line again. Finally Greg responded. _Why? Are you offering?_

_Nope. _Brandon answered. _Just being nosy...er, 'making conversation'._

_Oh, well, in that case...no. _Greg responded. _Just as well, I think. I'm hardly anyone's dream date._

_I find that kind of hard to believe. _Brandon typed back. _Someone as brilliant, sharp, and witty as you should have no trouble finding someone._

_Sure, if they can look past the wrinkles, the gray hair, and the limp._ Greg typed back.

_Um, hello. You're fifty. I'd be suspicious if you **weren't **gray and wrinkly. _When Brandon read it, he was a little horrified. _Wait, that wasn't quite what I wanted to say._

_It's cool. I mean, it's true. _Greg replied. _Anyway, it doesn't matter. I've kind of made peace with the idea of being alone._

_Seriously? _Brandon wasn't so sure about that. _I'm kind of okay with that right now, but down the road...I'd like to find someone to grow old with. _

_Well, seeing as I'm already there...I don't feel the need. _Greg quickly responded. _I'd just burden them with my mess anyway. No one deserves that._

_What mess? _Brandon pushed on. _You said so yourself. You're recovering. You're working. You're obviously functioning. What the hell is the problem?_

_Just drop it, okay?_ Greg answered. _I really don't see why the fact that I've chosen to fly solo is such a big deal to you._

_Because it's not right. _Brandon typed furiously. _You deserve to be happy, too._

_Who's to say I'm not? _Greg countered. _I've got a job I like, minions to harass, a boss to hound, and friends to hang out with. Sounds like a good life to me._

_It does. _Brandon agreed. _Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just projecting my needs on you._

_Insert heavy eyeroll here_ Greg typed back. _You've been hitting the Kool-Aid a little hard, Brandon. Ease up._

_Sorry. _Brandon responded. _All this psych crap is starting to rot my brain, I think._

_Maybe your brain needs to rot a little. _Greg answered. _Maybe then something new will grow in its place._

_Now who's been hitting the Kool-Aid? :D_ Brandon replied.

_Shut up. :P _Greg shot back. _It's late and I'm beat. What's your excuse?_

_:) Fresh out of rehab and starting over...again._ Brandon quickly typed back. _Makes a guy a little goofy._

_In that case...I guess you're forgiven. _Greg answered. _And on that note...I should go._

_Yeah, me too. _Brandon agreed. _Thanks for the chat._

There was a long pause, and Brandon figured Greg had simply signed off. Soon he sent another message. _Promise me something, Brandon._

_Sure. _Brandon responded. _As long as it's nothing too crazy._

Greg seemed to ignore that, continuing on. _If you feel yourself slipping...contact me. Don't worry about the time of day._

_How am I supposed to do that? _Brandon wasn't so sure about this. _You're hundreds of miles away, and other than e-mail and IM, I don't have any way to get hold of you._

_I'll e-mail you my work and cell numbers. _Greg typed back. _Call the cell first. I always have that on me._

Brandon felt the emotion well up in him. _Why are you doing this?_

Greg's response was almost immediate. _Because you need it. This isn't something you should do alone._

_I'm not alone. _Brandon protested. _I've got groups, I've got a shrink. I'm good._

_Well, I'm still going to send you my numbers. _Greg answered. _If you need them, great. If not, even better. _

_Thanks, I think. :D_ Brandon shook his head.

_I'm serious. _Greg fired back. _Don't screw around with this. It's too important._

The harsh words were the equivalent of a smack in the head. _I know it is. I can't afford another screw __up. I'm getting too old for this shit._

_Damn right you are. _Greg answered. _Check your e-mail. Same time tomorrow night?_

_I'll be here. :) _Brandon typed back. _And thanks. Really._

Greg had already signed off by the time Brandon hit the enter key. Just as well, Brandon decided. It had been a good chat, and it was good to end it on a high note this time.

He was still curious about Greg's unwillingness to seek out romantic companionship. Surely he wasn't as awful as he made himself out to be. Matter of fact, Brandon knew he wasn't. Tonight had been ample proof of that.

It was a matter that warranted further investigation, but that wasn't happening tonight. Brandon shut down the computer and went to bed, finally finding a bit of peace and hope that had been long absent. Maybe he wasn't such a hopeless case after all.

# # #

**Back to you, readers. Read and review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delays, folks. The muse tried to run away for a while. Just dragged her back and put her to work. :) As usual, I don't own House or the Scooby Kids.**

# # #

Brandon lay in one of the on-call rooms just off the ER, still shaking from his most recent patient. Two car accident victims had come in, one of them thirty-four weeks pregnant and in labor when the accident occurred.

It had been barely controlled chaos. In his panic over his wife, the husband was resisting treatment, throwing the wife into a further panic as both triage teams attempted to communicate with one another. The wife had developed further complications during her labor, requiring them to call in the on-call obstetrician, but her labor was progressing far more quickly than Brandon had anticipated.

Despite the complications and chaos, Brandon had managed to deliver the child, an six pound plus boy, much to the parents' joy and relief.

Brandon had been stunned, still shaking from adrenaline as he held the tiny creature in his arms. This was why he still did emergency medicine. It was moments when he was able to pull the patient back from the brink that made it all worthwhile.

He had chosen a high stress specialty, and he had questioned the idea of going back to it when he came out of rehab. If less stress would make sobriety easier, then logically speaking, it would be better for Brandon to walk away from the ER.

In the end, however, after much discussion with the Dean of Medicine, he had agreed to return. Nights such as this made him grateful that the Dean had essentially thrown him back into the deep end of the pool. Sometimes his boss knew what he needed better than Brandon did. He supposed that was part of what made the Dean so great at his job.

"Doctor Fisher?" A familiar voice broke into his thoughts. "Are you going home, or did you plan on crashing here all night?"

Brandon chuckled as he pushed himself off the bed and hopped down. "Suppose I'd better before they try to put me to work again."

Rosalie, one of the veteran ER nurses, gave him a broad smile in return. "You've worked hard enough tonight, I think. It was almost like old times, don't you think?"

Brandon had to agree with her. Throughout the entire crisis between the two patients, he had been clearheaded and focused in a way he hadn't been in a long time. "Very much so. Thanks for everything tonight. You kicked ass."

"We are one hell of a team, Doctor Fisher." Rosalie answered as they separated at the parking lot. "See you tomorrow."

Brandon nodded in return and climbed into his car for the drive home. As he drove, one thought briefly flashed through his head. It was strong enough to nearly make him stop in the middle of the road.

He pulled into the nearest parking lot with shaking hands and dug out his cell phone. Greg had passed along his phone numbers shortly after Brandon came out of rehab, and so far, he hadn't needed to use them. Tonight would be the first time, and he still wasn't completely convinced he was doing the right thing. After all, it was just a thought in his head. Just a passing thought. It didn't mean anything.

Brandon kept up his line of logic right up until he dialed the number and listened to it ring on the other end.

"House." The gravelly baritone took Brandon by surprise. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but that wasn't it.

"Uh...Greg?" Brandon cursed himself for sounding so nervous.

There was a brief silence on the other end before the same baritone barked out, "Who is this?"

Brandon took a deep breath. "It's Brandon."

Another brief pause. "Hold on." Brandon could hear voices in the background as Greg barked out various orders to who Brandon assumed were his team members. "Okay, got the kids occupied for a while. What's wrong?"

"Don't know where to start, exactly." Brandon took a quick breath. "Had kind of a wild night in the ER."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Brandon continued. "Two car accident victims, one of them a woman in early labor. Well...not _that_ early, but...thirty-four weeks. Anyway...it was, shall we say...a little chaotic. Dad was stressing out over Mom, Mom was hysterical." Brandon blew out a short sigh. "It was nuts."

"So what happened?" Greg's voice was tinged with concern.

"Everything turned out okay." Brandon allowed a small smile to creep over his face. "I delivered a baby for the first time since my OB rotation, despite all the complications and distractions...the little guy was healthy...Mom was okay, no injuries, and Dad only had some minor injuries. It was good. I was elated. Got in the car and started driving home and thought...I need to celebrate. I deserve it." He took another deep breath. "That's when I pulled over and called you. I wasn't sure I was going to make it home without stopping somewhere to celebrate my old way."

There was a long silence at the other end before Greg answered. "I can't say I'm thrilled to hear from you this way, but...you did the right thing. Where are you right now?"

"Damned if I know." Brandon let out a short laugh. "Some parking lot on my way home. Not one of my usual stops, I know that much."

"That's probably a good thing." Greg answered. "Are you okay? To drive home, I mean."

"Yeah, I will be." Brandon replied. "Just need a minute to calm down. The thought just struck me out of the blue, you know? I didn't expect that. I expect to want something when things aren't going right, but when I'm already feeling good? Doesn't make sense."

Greg let out a low chuckle on the other end. "Sure it does, Brandon. I mean, you did something good, right? You want to celebrate. What do most people do to celebrate?"

"Get good and wasted." Brandon laughed in response. "Not really an option for me anymore."

"It's always an option." Greg told him.

"Right." Brandon scrubbed his hand over his head. "Just not a _good _option."

"Well, what the hell do you know?" Greg laughed shortly in response. "The man _can _be taught."

Brandon couldn't help but laugh in response, ending it with a long sigh. "I can't even tell you how...just, you know. Thanks."

"I wouldn't have given you my numbers if I didn't think you needed them." Greg told him firmly. "I don't just give my numbers out to anyone."

"Well, still, you know. I appreciate it." Brandon replied. "Honestly, I felt kind of dumb calling you. It's not like it was a real crisis or anything."

"It could have been." Greg answered quietly. "You did the right thing. Stop questioning yourself."

"Can't help it." Brandon huffed in frustration. "I question myself every time I turn around."

"And you think I don't?" Greg replied sharply.

"Well...you seem pretty confident in yourself. You always seem to have it together."

Greg snorted. "Not even close, Brandon. Not even close."

"You sure hide it well." Brandon told him.

"Yeah, I do." Greg admitted. "Believe me, there are plenty of days...and nights...where I'd just as soon hang it up and go back to pounding thirty Vicodin a day. It'd be a hell of a lot easier."

"In the short term, maybe." Brandon answered. "You already know better than that, though."

"Doesn't mean I don't ever think about it, though."

There was a long silence between them before Brandon spoke again. "You ever miss it, Greg?"

"Every goddamn day." Greg answered. "Logically, I know I'm better off, but...yeah, I miss it."

"That's kind of good to know." Brandon replied. "It's...comforting, in an odd sort of way."

"You're...welcome, I guess?" Greg responded. "Guess I don't know how to respond to that one."

"It's okay." Brandon laughed a little. "It was kind of an odd thing to say, I guess."

There was another short silence before Greg spoke again. "You know...I think I'm about to send the kids on their way and pack it in. Should be home in about half an hour if you're going to be around."

"I should be." Brandon answered. "As wound up as I am, I'll be up for a while."

"Alright, then." Greg responded. "Guess I'll let you go...if you're going to be okay, that is. Not planning on making any stops on the way home, were you?"

"Nope, none at all." Brandon chuckled, a feeling of relief washing over him. "I'll be on the lookout for you. And...thanks. Seriously. You probably saved my ass...again."

"You did that yourself." Greg bluntly replied. "But yeah, you're...welcome. Talk to you soon."

"Bye." Brandon shut his phone and stuffed it back in his pocket before starting the car again for the drive home. No, there would be no stops. Not tonight. Brandon smiled to himself all the way home, even turning up the radio to sing along with whatever was playing. It didn't matter. He had faced a major test of his new sobriety and had passed. Things were indeed looking up.

# # #

House snapped his phone closed after his conversation with Brandon. He was surprised to find his hand shaking just a little as he shoved the phone back in its holder.

He hadn't expected the confession to slip out so easily. Something about being alone in the semi-darkness of his office had allowed House to drop his guard where he normally wouldn't. It was rattling, unnerving. Hell, he hadn't even told Nolan about his still-lingering desire to find escape in the soothing, mind-numbing qualities of the Vicodin.

He huffed irritably and pushed himself out of his office chair. Now that their patient was more or less out of the woods, he felt secure in sending his team home for the night. He pushed his way through the conference room door to find Taub and Foreman going over lab results.

"Where are the others?" House asked. "You know, the ones with the good hair."

Taub looked vaguely amused while Foreman merely gave House a hard look. "Hadley's running more blood work, and Chase is monitoring the patient."

House tilted his head, trying to make those puzzle pieces fit. They didn't. "Huh. Interesting."

"House..." Taub's voice took on almost a warning tone.

Just then the conference door flew open, and Thirteen breezed in, looking just a little less composed than usual, Chase following close behind.

"Thirteen!" House barked. "Got that...blood work?"

Thirteen looked confused for a moment before letting her perfectly composed mask drop back over her feline features. "I...The results were...inconclusive."

"And _Chase_." House turned toward the blond-haired doctor, who suddenly took on the appearance of a deer caught in the headlights. "How _is _our patient?"

"Fine." Chase showed almost no outward signs that he was rattled by House's question. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason. No reason at all." House smirked at him, thumping his cane on the floor. "So...patient's stable, treatment's been administered...let's call it a night. We'll pick this up in the morning."

With that he turned and left the conference room, his smirk growing a little wider as he packed up his backpack, grabbed his coat, and left his office. His suspicions about the growing connection between Chase and Thirteen were as good as confirmed now. If they weren't sleeping together, they were doing _something_, probably somewhere they shouldn't. Things were about to get very interesting on that front, unless House missed his guess, and he rarely did.

House soon arrived home, quickly limping in and firing up his laptop before rummaging around for leftovers, forgoing the beer in favor of a Coke. Now that he had been clean from Vicodin for a few months, easing up on the alcohol seemed to be the next logical step.

His IM chimed almost as soon as he returned from the kitchen with his leftovers, and he eased himself onto the couch to answer. _RC and 31 are __**so**__ doing it._ He typed in immediately.

_And hello to you, too. :D_ Brandon quickly replied. _I'm not sure I want to know how you found that out._

_Okay, probably not doing it...not yet, anyway._ House typed back. _But I'm pretty sure they found a supply closet somewhere. RC has a history of doing that kind of thing._

_That is so wrong. _Brandon answered. _And yet...yeah, wow. So if you know...everyone else probably knows, too._

_Oh yeah, it's about to get awkward. _House smirked as he replied. _Should be fun._

_You are a twisted individual. _Brandon shot back.

_What? _House answered. _I've got money on this thing._

_That's just...wow. I'm officially speechless._ Brandon replied. _You actually have bets with your employees?_

_Usually RC's the one starting the pool. _House typed back. _Wouldn't put it past him to put money on himself, the little weasel._

_He's just as bad as you are. :D _Brandon quickly answered. _Maybe worse._

_That's what his soon-to-be-ex said. _House answered. _Said I 'poisoned' him._

_Damn. I remember that now. _Brandon replied. _Sorry to bring that up again._

_Not your fault. Don't sweat it._ House responded. _Anyway...enough about that. Obviously you made it home okay._

_I did. :) _Brandon typed back. _Thanks for talking me down earlier._

_Yeah, no problem. _House answered. _Told you those numbers might come in handy. So...how's everything else going?_

_Tough. _Brandon replied. _I have to prove myself all over again. Feels like people are waiting for me to screw up._

_Yep, they are. _House snorted as he typed back. _Some people will look for any sign that you're fucking up. That's just the way it is. My best friend and my boss both tried to get a sample from me without my knowledge when they thought I was hitting the pills again._

_Seriously?! Why didn't they just ask you? _Brandon's response was immediate.

_Because they knew I wouldn't have given it to them. _House typed back. _And they don't trust me. Can't say that I blame them. God knows I've screwed them both over plenty of times._

_But they still sort of believe in you. _Brandon argued. _I think I've got maybe two people on my side. _There was a brief pause. _Okay, three. My boss, Rosalie, and now you._

_Who's Rosalie? _House was intrigued. _You've never mentioned her before._

_One of the ER vets. _Brandon answered. _She was one of the charge nurses back when I was finishing my residency. Kicked my ass into shape then, and she's still doing it now._

_Sounds like my kind of girl. _House typed back.

_I could hook you up. :) _Brandon replied. _She's single._

_I thought you liked her. _House snorted as he responded. _Why would you do that to her?_

_Stop it. :D _Brandon quickly replied. _She's a good lady. Widowed about ten years ago, kids are leaving home, and she's looking at retiring soon, maybe doing some traveling. Who's to say that couldn't include Jersey?_

_Retiring?! _House shook his head in disbelief. _How old is she?_

_Mid-fifties, tops. _Brandon answered. _And put whatever ideas you have about that out of your head. She's pretty put together._

_Like...how? I need more details. _House asked, more out of curiosity that interest. He was forming an image in his mind, despite Brandon's admonishments. _What's your idea of "pretty put together"?_

_Hold on...I'll send you a link. _There was a brief pause before a link appeared on the screen. House clicked on the link, which took him to a hospital website and someone's profile picture.

The woman was lovely, House had to admit that. Chocolate brown eyes stared at him, set in a matching face with fine, elegant features, her hair twisted into a bun at the back of her head, a wide smile crossing her face. _There is no way in hell this woman's in her mid-fifties, Brandon. Either that's an old picture or you're screwing with me._

_Neither, G. _Brandon typed back. _That's what she really looks like. Don't let her fool you, though. She's a badass._

House chuckled as he responded. _If she's so great, why aren't you snapping her up?_

_Let's just say...we're better off as friends and colleagues. _Brandon replied. _So...what do you think?_

House was completely baffled. _Wait a minute. You're serious about this?!_

_Hell yes, I'm serious. _Brandon shot back. _Unless, of course...you're seeing someone. In that case, never mind._

_I just want to know why you think this is such a great idea._ House couldn't understand what Brandon was trying to do here. _The fact that I'm flying solo (and perfectly FINE with that, thanks) is irrelevant._

There was a long pause before Brandon typed back. _Because I think you two would really like each other. And...yeah, you should meet her. _Another long pause. _I'd kind of like to meet you, too. Face to face, I mean._

House froze. Talking online, and even on the phone, was one thing. Meeting in person? House wasn't so sure about that. _I'm not so great in social situations. We're probably better off keeping this strictly...you know, as it is._

_I'm not going to push it. _Brandon explained. _Just...keep it in mind. I'm sure we could find a way to make it work. There's got to be somewhere halfway between here and there where we can meet up._

_I'll think about it, okay?_ House typed back. _No guarantees._

House was suddenly struck with an idea. _You know...my best friend has this other friend. Not really a friend, but some guy he knows. He treated him for cancer five years ago, and every year on the anniversary of his diagnosis, they get together and do something to commemorate it._

_I think I'm following you. _Brandon replied. _Maybe we could do something like that. One year from now, we meet somewhere to commemorate our sobriety. _There was a brief pause. _You ever been to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?_

A slow smile crept across House's face at the idea. _Never been._

_Then it's settled. :) _Brandon typed back. _One year from now, we meet in Cleveland at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame._

_That...might actually work. _House couldn't believe he was even thinking about thought occurred to House. _Hold on. What if one of us slips up?_

_Hmm...How about this. _Brandon suggested. _**If **__one of us slips, we delay the trip until one of us are one year sober. What do you think of that?_

_I think I like it. _House replied. _Holy fuck. I'm making future plans. I haven't done that in...hell, I don't know how long._

_Kind of cool to think about having a future to plan, isn't it? :)_ Brandon responded.

House's smile grew a little wider. _Yeah...it is. _He took a break to stretch out his fingers and drain his Coke before returning to the keyboard. _Now, about this hot old nurse of yours..._

_I'll talk to her and see about getting her e-mail address from her. _Brandon answered. _Is it okay if I give her yours?_

_What the hell? _House typed back. _If I'm going to take one risk, might as well keep on going._

_I like the way you think, Greg. _Brandon replied.

House was kind of okay with that line of thinking himself. For the first time in ages, he had something to look forward to besides work and hanging out with Wilson. He found himself daring to hope for something more. He just hoped it would be worth the risk.

# # #

**Don't take so long to review as I took to update. Read and review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, last chapter for this one. Thanks for all your lovely reviews along the way, and thanks for sticking with it. I don't own House or Wilson.**

# # #

"So let me get this right." Wilson intoned. "You're _willingly_ going all the way to Cleveland to meet a couple of people that you've only ever talked to online?"

"Not just online." House answered as he packed a suitcase. "I've talked to them on the phone, too."

"Whatever." Wilson shook his head. "This is just so...not like you. What's changed?"

House shrugged as he finished packing and zipped the suitcase closed. "I guess you could say we took a page out of your book, only Brandon isn't an insufferable jerk like.."

"Tucker. Right." Wilson rolled his eyes. "So why Cleveland?"

"It's almost halfway between here and there and...hello, ever hear of something called the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?" House answered with a slightly incredulous expression. "Just seemed like the right way to celebrate a year of sobriety."

Wilson looked briefly confused. "Are you working with a different calendar than I am? Seems like it's been longer than a year."

"Not just for me." House responded. "For him, too."

"Oh." Wilson answered. "I didn't know that he...had his own issues."

House smiled slightly and left the bedroom, rolling his suitcase behind him. "You never asked."

"Right." Wilson let out a resigned sigh as he followed House out of his bedroom. "How did you meet this guy, anyway?"

"Online medical forum." House explained. "He posted a case, I responded, he e-mailed me. Turns out we have a lot of things in common. He's a pretty cool guy."

"Huh." Wilson nodded thoughtfully. "So he's...a friend."

House gave Wilson a sharp look. "Yes, he's a friend. Figured you'd be happy that you weren't the only one."

"Believe me, I am." Wilson told him. "I'm just surprised, that's all. In a good way."

House did one final check of the apartment before leaving, Wilson following close behind as they climbed into Wilson's car for the trip to Newark.

Wilson couldn't help but notice his friend's increasing tension as they drove closer and closer to Newark. "Everything okay, House?"

"Fine." House answered shortly, playing with his bottom lip as he stared out the car window.

The pair continued to drive in silence until Wilson broke it again. "You know, there's a difference between chatting with someone online and meeting them in person. I'd probably be nervous, too."

"I said I was fine." House replied with a tone that warned Wilson to back off.

"Didn't say you weren't." Wilson answered calmly.

They pulled into the airport, and Wilson started to find a parking space. House simply shook his head. "Don't bother. Just drop me off."

"Are you sure?" Wilson wrinkled his brows in concern.

House merely rolled his eyes. "I'm a big boy, Wilson. Pretty sure I can find my way around an airport."

Wilson chuckled slightly as he hit the trunk release button on his key chain. "Then you should have no problem dragging your own suitcase out of the trunk."

House fixed him with a brief glare before he nodded slightly. "See you Sunday."

Wilson nodded in return as he watched House climb out of the car and disappear, rolling his suitcase behind him. It was good to see him building connections, even if it was just online. As House had told him before, baby steps. It seemed that both he and House were making those baby steps in their own way.

# # #

House blew out a long sigh as he left Wilson behind to make his way through the airport. Wilson had been half right when he had made that little comment about nerves.

He wasn't nervous about meeting Brandon face to face. On the contrary, House was looking forward to that. It was the idea of meeting Rosalie that had House twisted in knots. The two of them had been e-mailing and instant messaging for the better part of a year now, thanks to Brandon's interference. They had even managed a couple of conversations over webcam, full of teasing, flirting, and laughter on both their parts.

House found himself enamored of her, and if Brandon's messages were any indication, Rosalie felt similarly. That was all well and good while House still had an online relationship with both of them, but now things were about to change in a big way.

As he boarded the plane and settled himself into his seat, the doubts that had started to creep up on him during the drive to Newark took root. There were so many ways this could all go wrong, and House found himself debating the wisdom of getting on this plane to start with.

He huffed irritably and stuck in his earbuds, cranking up his I Pod to discourage any conversation with his seatmates. The time passed quickly, and soon the flight attendant announced their landing in Cleveland.

House eased himself out of his seat, the I Pod earbuds still firmly stuck in his ears as he deplaned and made his way through security. He tried to squelch down the flash of fear that coursed through him.

Brandon would be here, House told himself. Of course he would be here. He wouldn't leave House in a strange airport by himself, would he?

House scanned the waiting area, looking for someone that fit Brandon's description. Finally he spotted a man that was slightly taller than Taub, with graying hair and a large bald spot. A shorter, dark skinned woman accompanied him.

House's heart nearly stopped. That damn Brandon had brought Rosalie with him. House had sort of hoped he and Brandon would get a chance to talk a little before bringing Rosalie into the mix, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen. Just as well, House decided. Might as well get all the inevitable awkwardness over with at once.

He took a deep breath and strode over to the pair, speaking with a bravado he most certainly didn't feel. "Thought you were coming alone."

Brandon turned to face House, his face lighting up at the sight of him. "Greg! You made it!"

"Well, yeah." House rolled his eyes slightly as Brandon clapped him on the shoulder. He reached out to squeeze the other man's shoulder in return. "It's...good to see you."

"Same." Brandon fixed House with a warm smile before turning to Rosalie. House could see Brandon nudging Rosalie slightly.

She stepped forward, barely coming up to his chest. A few fine lines around her eyes and mouth, along with the gray that streaked through her otherwise jet black hair were the only clues to her age. Her deep chocolate brown eyes matched her skin tone, and House let his own eyes roam over her softly rounded figure.

Brandon had done good, House had to admit that. He just hoped Rosalie wasn't disappointed in what she saw.

"Greg." She flashed him a wide smile, showing bright white teeth that were a sharp contrast to her dark skin. "About damn time we got to meet face to face." Rosalie moved a little closer and held out her hand.

House reached out to take it, alternately startled and comforted by its warmth and softness. He allowed a slight smile to curve his lips. About damn time indeed.

A throat clearing sound jerked House out of his reverie, and he looked up to see Brandon smirking at him. House felt suddenly awkward, quickly releasing Rosalie's hand.

"So." Brandon spoke. "Anyone up for lunch?"

"You two go ahead." Rosalie answered as she gave Brandon a quick squeeze. "My sister and I were going to do some shopping. I'll catch up later." She flashed House a quick smile. "Especially with _you_."

House could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks as Brandon chuckled beside him. "Well, that went well." Brandon teased him.

"I guess." House was still a little skeptical.

Brandon threw him a slightly disgusted look. "Seriously? Every other sentence that has come out of that woman's mouth lately has started with your name. She's been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time."

House was silent for a long moment as he and Brandon strode through the airport and out to the parking area. Brandon gave him a concerned look. "You want me to bring the car around?"

"Nah, I'll walk." House answered. "Been sitting for too long."

The two men crossed the parking area, finally arriving at Brandon's car, an old Camaro, clearly lovingly restored. House let out a low whistle. "This thing yours?"

"Sure is." Brandon grinned as he tossed House's suitcase in the trunk and climbed in. "It's been one of my long time projects. Finally finished it up this spring."

"Nice." House admired the vehicle as he climbed in, thrilling to the sound of the engine as Brandon fired it up.

They cruised around for a while, chatting and catching up. House marveled at the way their easy online friendship translated into a real life thing. He finally felt himself relax a bit as Brandon found a local burger place and pulled in.

The two of them settled into a booth and placed their orders while House launched into a story about his most recent case. As was often the case, the story encompassed far more than just the medicine. It almost always provided House with a little opportunity to talk about his team members, especially the growing closeness between Chase and Thirteen.

Brandon arched an eyebrow as they ate. "Sounds like the two of them are getting pretty serious."

House shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they're just having killer sex. Either way, it seems to be working for them." He popped a French fry into his mouth. "Did I tell you that his wife finally sent the divorce papers?"

"Yeah, you did." Brandon nodded. "So Chase is about to be a free man, then."

"Looks that way." House answered. "Free to screw around with Thirteen all over the damn hospital...and anywhere else, for that matter."

"That's good...I guess." Brandon laughed.

House nodded in agreement. "Actually...it kind of is. They both seem happy. Guess that's all that really matters." He glanced up at Brandon. "So what about you? You mentioned something about this guy you've been seeing?"

Brandon's face lit up. "Steven, yeah. Met him when that pregnant car accident victim came in. He was the EMT." He shrugged a little as he sipped his Sprite. "He and Rosalie got to chatting, and she kind of encouraged him to chase after me. Glad she did. He's one hell of a guy."

House nodded in response. "I was going to say that. Seemed like a pretty good guy when I talked to him."

Brandon's face fell a little bit. "Yeah. I don't even know how he knew to call you. You could say I was pretty out of it." He looked thoughtful as he took a bite of his burger. "I can't believe he stuck with me through all that. I'm not sure I could have done the same."

House shrugged. "Everybody falls down, Brandon. You know that. The only question is if you can pick yourself up and keep moving." He gave Brandon a slight smile. "Looks like you did."

"With a lot of help." Brandon answered.

"No shit, Sherlock." House rolled his eyes. "I keep telling you that you can't do this shit alone. So quit trying already. You're practically surrounded by people that give a damn whether you live or die. Use them."

"I'm trying, Greg." Brandon snorted. "It's not easy."

"You're telling me." House chuckled in response. "I've spent my entire life trying to go it alone. I don't recommend it."

"You'd think I'd know better by now." An almost pensive expression seemed to cross Brandon's face. "I'm really glad you suggested this. It wasn't enough to completely keep me on the straight and narrow, but it went a long way."

"Nobody ever said this shit was going to be easy." House pointed out. "Don't think it's all been sunshine and puppies for me, either."

"I know it hasn't." Brandon dared to reach across the table and cover House's hand with his own. "I think that's why I keep running to you. You get it. A lot of people don't. So...thanks for sticking with me."

House would normally shy away from any sort of physical contact. Coming from Brandon, though, it felt oddly right. In their own way, they were kindred spirits, traveling a long, hard road, keeping each other moving down that road. Instead of instinctively pulling away, House turned over his hand and clumsily grabbed it in his own. "Us addicts and drunks have to stick together. It's the only way to get through it."

"Right." Brandon grinned as he released House's hand. "What say we get out of here? I'm sure you'd like to get to your hotel room before we meet up with Rosalie."

"Sounds like a plan." House started to pull out his wallet when Brandon shook his head.

"Uh-uh." Brandon told him firmly. "This one's on me. You can cover dinner."

"Thanks." House snorted and shook his head.

"Hey, what are friends for?" Brandon chuckled as he handed the waitress his debit card.

They soon left the restaurant, heading towards the hotel where the three of them were staying, and House soon found himself stretched out across the bed, closing his eyes, drifting in and out of sleep.

He was just about to fall asleep again when he heard a knock on the door. House sighed heavily and heaved himself off the bed to answer.

House flung the door open and was pleasantly surprised to see Rosalie standing there. "Fancy meeting you here."

Rosalie flashed him a quick, nervous smile. "Brandon told me you were back. Thought I'd drop in...if that's okay with you."

House nodded, stepping aside to let her in. "I wasn't really doing anything. Just...you know, taking a nap." He smirked slightly at her. "You could join me."

Rosalie laughed a little. "_Just _sleeping, right?"

House's heart started pounding in his chest. "If that's all you want..."

"For now." Rosalie answered, stepping closer to House. "No sense rushing things."

House eased himself onto the bed, laying down on his back with one arm stretched out to the side. Rosalie took the silent invitation, toeing out of her shoes and laying on her side, instinctively curling up to House as he slipped his arm around her shoulders.

He almost instantly relaxed as he reveled in the feel of Rosalie's body pressed against him, soft and warm, her arm wrapping around his waist. After only having contact with her online, House wasn't sure how things would go once they met face to face.

He dared to brush a light kiss to the top of her head as he pulled her closer, listening to the soft sigh she emitted in response. So far, things seemed to be going just fine. House only hoped he could keep from screwing this part of his weekend up.

# # #

Brandon called Greg a couple hours later after trying to get hold of Rosalie and failing. Secretly, he kind of hoped they were together right now. After all, that was the main reason he had let Rosalie know that he and Greg had returned.

It had been a pleasure playing Cupid for Rosalie and Greg. The two of them made quite a pair, trading quips and barbs as well as having more serious discussions. Rosalie had been a welcome addition to their online chats, often joining he and Greg when time allowed. There were many times when Brandon had simply set his status to 'away', doing other things online while occasionally checking in on Greg and Rosalie's continued conversations.

Yes, he was eavesdropping, and he knew it. Steven would often chide him for it, but he almost couldn't help himself. Watching Greg and Rosalie build their connection over this time tickled him to no end, and both of them would often share little bits of stories with Brandon.

Greg's voice mail picked up, and Brandon smiled broadly as he left a message and snapped his phone closed. Steven fixed him with a curious look. "Get a hold of them?"

"Nope." Brandon was still grinning. "I can't get hold of either one of them. I'm thinking they're together."

"Oh." Steven's eyebrows shot upward. "You don't suppose they're...you know."

"Well...their online chats have gotten kind of on the hot and heavy side lately." Brandon answered. "They very well could be."

"Good for them." Steven stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes.

"That's kind of what I'm thinking." Brandon agreed as he stretched out next to Steven.

Brandon had no sooner closed his eyes than his phone started chiming. He groaned and reached for it, flipping it open. "Fisher."

"So Rosalie and I have done our thing..." Greg intoned. "We're ready for dinner whenever you and Steven are."

Brandon laughed as he pushed himself in a sitting position. "Right. Don't need to know details." He checked his watch. "Meet you downstairs in about half an hour?"

"Sounds good." Greg agreed. "Oh, and by the way..." His voice dropped to a low whisper. "Thanks for hooking us up. She's one hell of a woman."

Brandon smiled widely in response. "Told you you needed someone in your life."

"Yeah, yeah." Brandon could almost hear Greg roll his eyes through the phone. "See you in a little while."

The four of them soon met up down in the lobby, and from there they proceeded to a nearby restaurant. Throughout the meal, Brandon couldn't help but observe the interaction between Greg and Rosalie. The two of them exchanged looks and glances, subtly touching each other. Rosalie almost seemed to glow in Greg's presence. Brandon was sure he had never seen her this way. It was beautiful to see.

"So, you two lovebirds going to be up for touring the Hall of Fame tomorrow?" Brandon teased them.

"Well, yeah." Greg responded, sliding an arm along the back of Rosalie's chair. "You don't think I came all the way here just for the company, do you?" He turned briefly to Rosalie. "Not that...you know..."

"It's fine." Rosalie answered warmly, lightly squeezing Greg's hand. "I get what you're trying to say."

"Good." Brandon heard Greg murmur, and he could see just a hint of color rise on Greg's face. "I'll be right back."

Greg left the table, and Rosalie immediately turned to Brandon. "Even if I don't go to the Hall of Fame...I'm glad I came down."

"So you like him, then?" Brandon teased her.

Rosalie nodded. "Just as much as I did online. We had...a good afternoon."

"Oooh..." Brandon kept ribbing her. "You don't have to share details, you know. We get the idea."

"Boy, please." Rosalie snorted. "Nothing _happened_. We just...laid around in bed and talked. Napped a little, too. We're old. You need to give us a break."

"Right." Brandon returned to his meal, and the three of them fell into casual chat as Greg returned to the table.

The meal soon ended, and the four of them returned to the hotel and went their separate ways. Steven nudged Brandon as they moved toward the elevators. "Check that out."

Brandon turned to see Greg and Rosalie lean toward each other for a brief kiss, wrapping their arms around each other as they stood chatting in the lobby. He guided Steven toward the elevator, chastising him. "Come on, leave them alone. We'll check in with them in the morning."

# # #

The next morning House opened his eyes to the sound of what sounded like two phones going off. He groaned and reached out for his own, somewhat surprised to find he wasn't alone.

"Answer that damn thing already, would you?" Rosalie muttered as she rolled over, pulling the covers over her head.

"I'm on it." House grumbled, even as he was amused by Rosalie's actions. Clearly she wasn't a morning person. That suited House just fine. He pushed himself to a sitting position and flipped open the phone. "House."

"Morning." Brandon's voice boomed in his ear. "Is Rosalie with you?"

"That, my friend, is none of your damn business." House snapped.

Brandon chuckled in response. "Well..._if _you see here, tell her that we're meeting for breakfast down in the lobby before we go to the Hall of Fame."

"Right." House rolled his eyes. "You might want to call her. You know, just in case I _don't _see her."

"Mm-hm." Brandon's voice took on a skeptical tone. "See you two in about an hour."

"Asshole." House muttered to Brandon's obvious amusement as he snapped his phone shut. He shifted so that he lay next to Rosalie, wrapping his arm around her and pressing a kiss to her neck. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. We've got a breakfast date with the emergency boys."

Rosalie groaned and stretched, turning to face House. "How long have we got?"

"Supposed to be meeting them in about an hour." House answered, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Good." Rosalie murmured. "Means I can sleep a little longer."

House snorted and curled closer to her. "What's the matter? Can't keep up with a younger man?"

Rosalie laughed heartily. "Of course I can! You just kept this old lady up way past her bedtime."

"That's saying something, Night Owl." House pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, deepening it as he pushed Rosalie over onto her back.

"Hmmm..." Rosalie murmured before pushing him away. "Plenty of time for that later. You keep that up and you're going to make us late."

"Pretty sure they'll understand." House answered, continuing the line of kisses down her neck.

"Come on, now!" Rosalie exclaimed. "I've got to get ready."

"Dammit." House harrumphed and rolled over on his back. "Fine, I'll take a rain check. I expect to cash it in later."

"Don't worry, I'll make good on it." Rosalie answered as she rolled out of bed and padded toward the bathroom. House watched her move around while she gathered up clothes and toiletries.

She would soon be turning fifty-five, and was already talking about retiring from nursing. One would never guess that to look at her. Rosalie had obviously taken excellent care of herself, a few fine lines and some gray hair the only clues as to her real age.

Her physical beauty only added to House's attraction. Ever since they had started e-mailing and instant messaging each other, her intelligence and sharp sense of humor had captured him. Now that he had a chance to evaluate the whole package, he was completely enamored of Rosalie. It was going to be difficult to say goodbye to her tomorrow. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to get together. They had already discussed the possibility of her moving to Princeton once she retired, since House was still a number of years away form retirement, if he ever did retire.

But that could wait for another time. Right now, for a change, House was focused on the present. He had the Hall of Fame to look forward to, as well as hanging out with two people who had become close friends, with the possibility of one of them becoming much more.

House pushed himself out of bed and started the small coffeemaker that was in his room. He didn't want to reveal it to Rosalie, but he was feeling a little rough himself after the short night. Not that it hadn't been worth it. It had been worth every minute.

Rosalie soon emerged, and House took his turn, inhaling the scent that Rosalie left behind before taking his own shower. She greeted him with a wide smile upon seeing him.

"Don't you look nice?" Rosalie gave him an approving once over.

House shrugged. It was just his standard jeans, t-shirt, and button down shirt. Perhaps he had tidied up a bit, but still, it wasn't that much different from his everyday wear. "I wear this all the time."

Rosalie tilted her head, studying him. "I think it's the shirt. Brings out those baby blues." She glanced down at the black jeans. "And the jeans fit you just like they should." She reached up on tiptoe to give him a brief kiss. "You look good. Deal with it."

House snorted as he returned the kiss and guided her out of the hotel room. He admired Rosalie's blunt way with words. It served as yet another reality check he could always use. No wonder Brandon liked her so much.

"Hey, look who made it!" Brandon called out as the two of them entered the lobby. "Good thing you ran into her. I never did get a chance to call."

"Right." House glared briefly at Brandon as he placed a hand on Rosalie's waist. "Let's eat already. I'm starving."

Brandon and Steven each barely managed to hold back a snort, and Rosalie reached out to smack Brandon hard on the arm.

After a long breakfast, the four of them piled into Brandon's car for the drive to the Hall of Fame. House and Brandon grinned at each other as they approached. "There it is, man."

"Yep." House answered. "Mecca."

The four of them spent the day touring the Hall of Fame, discussing their various musical interests and debating the merits of different artists' Hall of Fame worthiness.

The end of the day found Brandon and House leaning over a railing, talking music, as they often did online. House had to admit that it was a hell of a lot better to do it in person.

"You know what, Greg?" Brandon finally asked him.

"What?"

Brandon fixed him with a warm smile. "This was a brilliant idea. I can't believe I haven't been here before." He tilted his head at House. "So...any ideas for next year?"

"Next year?" House was puzzled.

"Sure." Brandon shrugged casually. "I wouldn't mind doing something like this every year. You know, just to remind myself of how far we've come."

House nodded. "Yeah, I can see that. It'd give us a good excuse to get together, too."

"I'd like that." Brandon answered, glancing down at his folded hands. "I'm really glad I sent you that e-mail. I might still be mired in my own bullshit if I hadn't." He paused thoughtfully. "Hell, I might be dead right now."

"You would have gotten your head out of your ass eventually." House told him. "No way you could have gone down that road forever."

"Glad I didn't." Brandon turned to look at House. "You were a big part of this. Don't try to deny that." He reached out to touch House on the shoulder. "You saved my ass. Thank you."

House glanced at the hand on his shoulder, shifting slightly. "You saved your own ass. I just busted your chops from time to time."

"Which I clearly needed." Brandon told him firmly. "I still say I wouldn't be here without you."

House simply shrugged, glancing down. "Did I tell you I quit the booze, too?"

"No, you didn't." Brandon gave him a questioning look. "How long ago?"

"Not long after your last tumble off the wagon." House answered. "I kind of felt like a hypocrite telling you to get your shit together while I was working my way through a bottle of bourbon."

"So you've been almost a year without anything." Brandon gave him a wide smile. "That's fantastic, man. Way to go."

"Thanks." House was a little embarrassed, but pleased, too. He certainly hadn't gotten that reaction from anyone else he knew.

Before he knew it, Brandon had pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm proud of you, Greg."

House slowly responded in kind, swallowing a lump that had mysteriously appeared in his throat. "Same to you, Brandon."

Brandon released House and stepped away, briefly brushing at his eyes. "Whew. So...about next year...I'm kind of thinking New York. It's a little closer to your neighborhood."

House nodded. "Could be fun. You're not going to force me to go to a musical, are you?"

"Maybe Avenue Q if it's still playing." Brandon answered. "I think you'd like that one."

A slow smile crept over House's face at the idea. "So...we're making future plans again."

"Feels pretty good, huh?" Brandon asked. "Kind of cool knowing that there might be a future."

House turned to see Rosalie and Steven walking toward them. His heart almost literally skipped a beat at the sight of her. If she could be a part of this future...no, he didn't dare think about that.

"Hey." She smiled warmly and wrapped an arm around House's waist. "What are you guys talking about?"

"New York." Brandon replied. "We're already starting to plan out next year's commemorative trip."

"Excellent." Rosalie's eyes lit up at the idea. "I love New York."

"Then it's settled." Brandon nodded firmly. "Same time, next year, in New York."

House smiled to himself as he placed an arm around Rosalie's shoulders. Future plans suddenly sounded like a great thing, and he hoped that both Brandon and Rosalie would be a part of that future. Who would have thought so much would have come out a simple medical case posted online by some guy in Detroit? Certainly not House.

"All right, all right, enough of the future plans." Rosalie announced. "The only future I'm interested in right now involves what we're doing for dinner. I'm about to drop from hunger."

"And no one wants that." House intoned, leaning down to whisper to her, "You need your energy to make good on that rain check."

Rosalie shouted in laughter at House's remark, and House couldn't help but grin. The future suddenly looked damn good, and House couldn't wait to move forward, hopefully with this bundle of fun at his side.

**THE END**

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**Thanks for reading, as always. Now be so kind as to leave a review on your way out.**


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